


Homefront

by Jkit45



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, NSFW, claire just is a bisexual disaster who is feeling it with the biohazard ladies, i'm just a useless lesbian and needed some wlw hints, in which everyone has sexual tension, some light jill/claire but it's mainly chrisvalenfield pining still, this is Not Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 42,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22915330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jkit45/pseuds/Jkit45
Summary: An AU take on RE2/3 where the storylines intersect. After the Mansion Incident, Jill struggles to make her new normal. She balances her personal life while grappling with her intertwined fate involving the illegal dealings of the Umbrella Corporation. When Chris Redfield's sister, Claire, comes to Raccoon Village, Jill does her best to protect her from a new outbreak caused by the Corporation.
Relationships: Carlos Oliveira/Jill Valentine, Chris Redfield & Jill Valentine, Chris Redfield/Jill Valentine, Claire Redfield/Jill Valentine, Jill Valentine/Original Male Character(s), Leon S. Kennedy/Claire Redfield
Comments: 34
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to the sequel to** _**Conspiracy,** _ **kiddos. Thank you for all the comments, messages and well wishes with the first installment!**

**Which brings us to Homefront! (for the newcomers, these are my very not-canon- could- possibly- be- an- original- novel RE fanfic/novelizations).**

**In which we get less canon compliant and everyone is riding the struggle bus while pining (except Ada who has her shit together mostly). I'll probably edit this more but I really wanted to post the first chapter!**

**Suggested listening:**

_**Did it Again** _ **Shakira**

**HOMEFRONT**

**Chapter 1** **:**

**Tw: heavy drinking references**

Jill leaned back on her loveseat couch, the old, faded blue one that smelled like dust and gave her a nice view into the back yard. She liked to keep an eye on the woods, watch the wind shake the trees and the evening fireflies flash around the brush. Feet dangling over the edge of the arm, she pointed her toes to stretch her calves.

Although she and Chris and Rebecca had managed to destroy the facility they’d found hidden in the woods, her proximity to the forest made her uneasy. She’d recently been a game warden. All the strange things that happened in Raccoon Village had once been quirky and charming, until a night several weeks prior when they’d accidently blown the top of a conspiracy. 

It wasn’t long after what she now called “The Mansion Incident”, that she, her field partner, Chris, and another game warden who’d survived the encounter, Barry, had been requested to return into the Raccoon Village Police Department.

Chief Irons promptly labeled them as “liars” and informed them that none of it existed—there was no lab, no genetic experiments, no leaked virus. No sign of the lab’s self-destruct protocol. The Umbrella Corporation, the pharmaceutical giant which operated the research lab, sent their lawyers who just about laughed Chris and Jill out of the room.

There were no mad doctors, no trace of the dozens of human victims of unethical experimentation.

The week of forced vacation turned into a career change, “You’re lucky there isn’t any evidence. You could be facing manslaughter and drug charges. The drug testing all came back inconclusive, I could ask for it to be rerun.” Jill heard the threat in there. Irons handed her the severance paperwork, smugly taking the one-line resignation letter he’d coerced her into with the threat of jail time. 

“Because the lab blew. It was programmed to.” Jill hissed at him.

“You’re lying!” Chris, always the one to be more forthcoming with his emotions, “You’re full of shit! You could go out there and look at the crater and know it was a whole lot more than some people playing with explosives!”

But that hadn’t mattered to Chief Irons. What mattered was that nothing had happened. The Arklay Forest Preserve was a safe place for tourists to camp in the summer and ski in the winter. It was a protected state park. Nothing bad happened there and the Umbrella Corporation could keep buttering his bread.

Raccoon Village replaced their game wardens almost immediately. The piss poor memorial service for those who’d died in the woods had been held in the basement of a local church, and most of the families of the dead had already left town. Grants given by a “benevolent anonymous donor to move out of town and start over as long as the incident was dropped”. Most had taken the offer.

Jill started to consider that she should have. Waiting tables didn’t look good on her. Neither did coming home and mourning her old job and coworkers. That was normal, the shrink said, to grieve. Jill wondered if she would ever stop. The way the sadness crept up on her. The way the sound of silverware falling from a tray today somehow reminded her of the gunshot that had taken Enrico’s life as she’d been hidden, stuffed in a cabinet. Chris manned the local outdoor supply store, to which he was definitely better suited than she to waitressing, but he was the type of person who wore just about anything well. 

She usually covered breakfast at the restaurant at the end of her street, a seasonal greasy spoon brunch joint, which meant she was off for the day. Clothes smelled like griddle grease and maple syrup; Jill rested her feet up on the arm of the couch. She twisted her engagement ring, staring outside.

Hector lived in New York City. She lived in his family’s cabin—the one they’d paid Arklay Preserve a pretty penny for the rights to own within the park. It used to be a nice place to live. At least during the summer season the neighborhood around her bustled with activity. Even now, late in the afternoon on a Wednesday, she heard children laughing and the distinct crackling of a woodfire next door. _Safety in numbers._

The smell of smoke, distinctly mixed with sharp, sour fire starter coming through her window screens. She’d been planning this call for a while. It was something she didn’t really want to do. Jill rested her new cell phone screen-down on her chest and stared outside, watching the trees churn in the wind.

It would be another seven minutes until her father, Richard Valentine, would be allowed to make phone calls from the prison in which he was housed.

Umbrella Corporation had been behind it all. The lab, the virus which had spilled and killed most of the lab workers, the genetic torture they’d exposed their subjects to. Jill stared out at the woods. Dark, lush. There’d been a lot of rain.

No wonder Umbrella had chosen out here. It was damn near impossible to see several feet into the growth from her vantage point. She let out a trembling breath. Every lead had gone cold. Even the internet in its omniscient glory and seemingly infinite supply of conspiracy theories had little to offer about Umbrella’s shadier dealings. It seemed each time she and Chris would sniff out a lead, determined this time that they’d have evidence to present about the magnitude of Umbrella’s illegal activities, it would quickly dry up. Frustratingly powerful and one step ahead of them. The Corporation Innocently advertising makeup products on the evening news, while she, for all intents and purposes, had been effectively exiled from her life.

They hadn’t exhausted everything, though. Someone in the lab had mentioned to her something which she couldn’t get out of her mind. It was a man she’d once trusted, who turned out to have been working for the company all along. He’d said that Jill’s own father, a connoisseur of corporate espionage, had done plenty of work to supply Umbrella with their precious data. Jill wanted to know for herself.

_You haven’t talked to him in over two years. How does one broach this conversation?_ Two minutes to go. Jill exhaled, staring at the wooden beams in her vaulted main room. Dark seams and knots in the wood, like eyes looking back down at her. A fresh fit of laugher from the neighbors’ bonfire.

_“Hey! Stop running around the fire, will you?”_ A woman’s voice demanded. Jill saw two children dart across her backyard, running the tree line. She didn’t mind them. It made everything feel weirdly normal. Finally, it was four in the afternoon. Which meant it was two in Upstate New York, and that time on Wednesdays was when the correctional facility allowed inmates to make phone calls.

It had been a process. She’d had to write to Richard, giving him the number she wanted him to call, and then had to verify her relation to him for the New York State Department of Corrections. Then, he’d written back to her, including the time and date when he’d be allowed to reach out, and she’d wired money to him so he could be able to call her cell. And it wasn’t her normal cell. It was a burner she’d bought as she would bet money that Umbrella had her normal phone monitored.

Her phone buzzed with a restricted number. She clicked the talk button on the cheap, plastic flip phone.

“H-Hello.” Jill hated that she stuttered.

_“Jilly-Bean! How’s it hanging?”_ How happy he sounded made something hurt in her chest. Why hadn’t she called him more before?

_Because your ass ended up in jail with him from his last stunt. He conned you into being a getaway driver, remember?_

“Hey…Hey dad.” She smiled despite herself, sitting up to grab her notebook off the end table and click open her pen, “It’s been…interesting. I was a game warden for a little while.”

_“You were a cop!?”_ He cackled, “ _Wow, I’m kidding. I heard you went to Police Academy. I’m proud of you. What are you doing now?”_

That wasn’t something she’d heard in a long time—anyone being proud of her—but she had to focus on the task at hand and not get sentimental as she’d been a little too prone to as of lately. “Uh.” Maybe she should have organized this conversation a little better. He was in prison, so it was pretty obvious that if Umbrella wasn’t somehow listening to her, the corrections staff were, “Uh…something happened, dad. Something that you’d know more about than me.”

A pregnant pause on the other line, “ _Oh.”_

She’d rehearsed this in her head, but it still came out awkward, “I was trying to buy some makeup. You know the kind I like? From Umbrella Corporation.”

Another long pause. She wasn’t sure if he was confused, _“Oh. What happened?”_ He did sound a little wary.

“The man I met at the makeup store. He was a creepy doctor, buying some products for a weird girlfriend he had, and said you used to work for Umbrella. Is that true?”

It was pretty unlikely her father would catch on to that being Dr. Wesker and Zahara Bryer, but she could try, “ _Oh, Jill.”_ He said after another pause, “ _That’s an intense question. I’m not sure I could remember specifics. But I did do some work for Umbrella, not too sure I was touching any makeup though.”_ He gave a humorless laugh, _“Are you okay?”_

“Yeah…yeah but I’m…I’m trying to learn more.”

_“Some people don’t like when you try to learn their business. Be careful. That’s something I’d have to write you about.”_ Richard answered, almost curtly. She tried her best to bring him back onto the subject of Umbrella but he wasn’t having it, and had suddenly seemed to forget the corporation existed all together.

A few more attempts at awkward conversation until they bid each other goodbye. “ _I’ll write you.”_ He said again. Jill hung up.

She tossed her burner phone onto the kitchen table and leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling and zoning until someone was knocking at her door. A Jeep Wrangler with a stark white paint job parked out on the side of the road. Jill smiled, jumping up from the couch: “Chris. Is everything okay?” She wasn’t expecting him, but in the weeks after The Mansion Incident they’d both grown accustomed to dropping by to check on each other. Texting each other about their movements and whereabouts begun to feel dangerous with the uncertainty of phone tapping.

“Was going to call you about how your conversation with your dad went but thought maybe it was better to talk in person.” Chris stated. She opened the door and let him in.

“He knows something about Umbrella. But he pointedly didn’t tell me. Made some comment about getting into ‘people’s business’ and to be careful and then wouldn’t talk anymore. He said he would write me.” Jill sighed, “What about you? Those kids from the UK that were backpacking through town?”

“They think I’m just a conspiracy theorist. They don’t know anything.” Chris sat next to her on the couch, “What about Hector?” 

“Hector says he believes me about everything, but he thinks it was a one off and nothing like that could be happening on a large scale. I don’t blame him. He didn’t see it and he’s afraid for his own job. He trades Umbrella stock all the time at his firm.” Jill shook her head. Not that she blamed her fiancé for preforming his essential job functions, it irked her that Umbrella had such a giant hold on the country and seemingly the entire world that even Hector working on wall street had too much to loose to entertain any real trash talk about the corporation.

Chris nodded along knowingly, “How’s the wedding planning?” 

“Dear god.” She rolled her eyes, “Please don’t be my mother.”

“I guess I’m just worried about being alone in Raccoon after you two tie the knot.”

“What? You’ll move to New York City while I play housewife for a stockbroker—just kidding, that’s not that plan, for the record. As much as that’s what mom wants.” She rolled her eyes.

Chris laughed, “Well, I haven’t gotten a save the date.” Jill looked at the stack of boxes on the counter, pointed and rolled her eyes.

“We bought blank ones because we haven’t picked a date. I’m apparently going to learn calligraphy from what my mom said to Hector—”

“Calligraphy? You? Have you seen your handwriting?” Chris asked her innocently.

“Shut up. It’s not that bad!” Jill glowered at him.

Chris raised his eyebrows at her, “Ehh, I saw your Post-its at work.”

“That’s why they invented typing. And considering his reaction to this whole situation hasn’t been…great…I’m talking it slow until everything settles down. So there’s not a date immediately-at-the-moment.” Jill explained. She wasn’t entirely sure what a ‘great’ reaction might have been but figuring out a way out of selling Umbrella stocks might have appeased her a little more, “But I had another question for you.”

“What?” Chris side-eyed her.

“Well, my mom and Martha both flipped a shit when I said that my only bridesmaids might be men other than Hector’s sisters who I don’t actually know that well.”

“Have to be women?” Chris asked her.

“Well, I figured you were going to be a bridesmaid, right? Same with some of my academy friends from the city? Mom and Martha and Hector all said no—they want traditional wedding photos and ‘dates’ for Hector’s friends who are straight men.”

“I mean…” Chris made an amused noise, “Me? A bridesmaid? You’re gonna drag me into this shit show with you? I’d rather hit your open bar and watch from a distance.

“You would leave me all alone with that?” Jill feigned innocence.

“No offense. It’s your wedding and clash of the families. What about Rebecca?”

“I swear if you throw up before me at my wedding, I will give you hell!" Jill hissed, "Rebecca? Martha and my mom will eat her alive. But yeah, I’m expecting her. I need four though. Rebecca makes me have three bridesmaids, but two of them want to murder me for worrying their brother depending on the day—”

“That’s good because Rebecca’s an EMT and can render you first aid when you give yourself alcohol poisoning to try to walk to the alter to marry Hector—”

“Chris!” She tried to sound mad, “Shut the fuck up! Be nice. Seriously. He’s not bad if you give him a chance.” Considering Hector came to Raccoon after The Mansion Incident and the three of them hanging out ended with Hector getting heated about Chris offering Jill a cigarette and potentially giving her instant lung cancer by smoking in her vicinity while they were standing on a patio of a bar, Hector doomed himself to the butt of a few jokes, “Smoking is bad.” Jill managed.

“Neither of us smokes, except for very rarely on a bar patio.” Chris stated.

“I don’t smoke at all. Except for that time we were drunk and camping.” Jill rebutted, “Or at least haven’t in years.”

“I didn’t know Hector would have a panic attack from seeing you breathe secondhand smoke.” Chris shrugged, “Sue me.”

“Okay, we’re getting off topic, this is important.”

“Right. Your wedding party. Rebecca is manning first aid which is important with the open bar.” Chris continued, Jill rolled her eyes, “Why is this a problem? That’s three. You’ll have to use your body as a shield for Rebecca against your mother, worst case, but she’s a tough girl, she’ll probably be fine—”

“Hector has four men in his wedding party.”

“So?” Chris shook his head.

“My mom and Martha are very concerned about the appearance of this in photos and that there are an even number of people and I’m required to find another bridesmaid.”

Chris blinked. He made the face where be pressed his lips together and puffed out his cheeks and crossed his eyes: “That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I know. But that’s not how mom sees it and I’m pretty sure my mom is living vicariously through this wedding considering she’s never been married. Chris, I need to procure a bridesmaid, or they’ll find me one.”

He shook his head, “And you want my help with that? I thought there was going to be important Umbrella intel.”

“What about Claire?” Jill asked, almost sheepishly because the request was idiotic, “Hector’s buying the bridesmaid dresses anyway and she can drink as much as she wants. Maybe give a toast so Hector’s sisters don’t.”

“I do have Claire. But she’s a bull in a China shop and you’ve…never met her?”

“They’re going to get one of Hector’s female friends who constantly sends me multi-level marketing invites on Facebook for diet pills to be another bridesmaid if I don’t find one.”

“Do you…want my sister’s number?”

“Is that weird?” Jill asked.

“A stranger you don’t know or a lady who’s going to sell you diet pills? Wait, why was she selling _you_ diet pills?”

Jill looked down at herself. She’d always been a svelte, muscular girl, “Because I was getting ‘bulky’ from lifting weights.”

“What an uplifting person. This is kind of six or a half dozen.” Chris smirked, “Although Claire isn’t involved in any MLMs that I’m aware of.”

“I’ve only met this MLM lady once and she told me it looked like I had breast implants.” Jill stated. Chris cackled, “This is serious! Then she grabbed my boobs because she didn’t believe they were real. In front of Hector. And he got mad.”

“Wow, she could make the ceremony interesting. Is that a hard stop on me being a bridesmaid?”

“Jesus, Chris. You working tomorrow? Want to order pizza?” Jill yawned, “I smell like maple syrup.”

Chris shrugged: “Told a lady jackalopes exist.” He informed her.

They both cackled, “Why do we suck at being normal?”

\--

**Procure a bridesmaid, Jill. And Jill definitely tells people to "fuck off" in this because her and Carlos' banter is my new sexual orientation.**

**Drop me a comment. : )**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! Between a trip and current world events I held this chapter back for quite some time. Looking at how beautiful RE3 is seeming, however, I wanted to post it! At first I was struggling with this. The whole Covid-19 thing and I wasn’t sure I wanted to write about viruses and what not, but hey, considering the trending movie on Netflix is apparently _Outbreak_ I figured what the hell. Y’all know what you’re getting into when you’re reading RE fic anyway ; ) **

**Have tons written about some H/C fun times as this goes on with Jill and the whole nemesis thing. Claire Redfield being a fucking queen. And most importantly, Carlos and Jill shamelessly bantering with each other. Chris and Jill pining. It’s still definitely a Jill-centered piece, so we’ll hear the most from her narrative-wise with some Claire sprinkled in.**

**I’m just waiting on the game before I really start cranking it out to make sure I really hit every beat I want to in case there’s some stuff in there that I’ve missed <3 **

**That said, once my 14 days are up, I’m essential (woo) so I’ll probably be pulling a crap ton of overtime.**

**I hope you all are staying healthy and safe and here’s my contribution I guess to the people stuck inside (at least if you’re like me and seek comfort in crappy fanfic)~~**

**Lots of love!**

**Chapter 2:**

“I’m planning on going to Europe.” She knew it was coming eventually: that Chris would be leaving the village. It felt like a gut punch, but Jill made sure not to show it on her face.

She texted him a lot at night. Maybe too much. More than Hector, definitely. Hector had the sort of job where he needed to not be woken.

Jill didn’t sleep anymore. Every shadow that moved, any noise her cell phone made when she charged it. Jill would find herself breathless, jumping up despite her exhaustion, having to talk herself into believing that there was no immediate emergency before she could even convince her spinning brain to let her lay down. Her constant pacing of the length of the cabin had begun to wear a faded trail in the old hallway carpeting.

_Getting time to replace it anyway._ Hector’s family, who owned the tired little cabin, always entertained redoing it. Maybe the place would get a facelift for her. Maybe Hector’s job would slow enough that he could work some weeks out of Raccoon Village rather than always being in New York City.

“Okay.” Jill said, “When. And where?”

“At least Paris. Probably Milan, too.” Chris swallowed, he sat at her table, “That Georgio guy, the one I told you about. He wants to meet me there.”

“Which one is Georgio, again?” Jill put the kettle on. She was always a coffee drinker. Switching to decaf in recent weeks to try to encourage her body to sleep hadn’t seemed to make much difference, but it felt better to brew herself a cup of the non-caffeinated variety as she reached for it out of comfort in the late hours after dinner. She stirred in the heavy cream she’d bought herself.

_Crossfit. Thursday late-night class. Probably shouldn’t drink coffee beforehand._ Her mind drifted out of habit.

_No. No more crossfit. The police department paid for that. You’re suspended. You don’t have a membership anymore. Most of the people you used to do it with are dead._ The grief showed up randomly sometimes. Jill took a shaky breath and tossed her carton into the fridge.

“You okay?” Chris asked her, “You’ll get a renewed passport, won’t you?”

“I applied, but the post office is tied up.” Jill shook her head, “They say it’s a six-month turnaround right now. I probably won’t have a passport by the time you go, and forget the visas I’ll have to apply for once the passport is in my hands depending on where we’d be going.” She leaned her elbows on the counter, “I think you’re taking a solo trip. Besides, Hector would shit himself if I fucked off to Paris and wherever else to investigate. They’re already not happy with me out here after everything.”

“They believe you, then?” Chris asked hopefully.

“Mostly. But the story’s all pretty outlandish. I haven’t told them all the details, anyway. Mom stopped buying Umbrella products so at least that’s something.” Jill muttered, “But you should go. Soon as you can. Is Georgio the one who’s investigated Umbrella before?”

“Yeah. He’s going to take me around the EU.” Chris answered, “There’s a few contacts he has. Apparently, something similar happened at a facility in the French countryside. Smaller scale, but they encountered B.O.W.s. No deaths, but they were all threatened and pretty quickly dispersed throughout Europe. Umbrella paid them out for their silence. He’s doubtful anyone would talk though—”

“No. They might. Especially to you.” Jill needed anything to be hopeful at this point, “You should go.”

“What will you do here?” Chris looked at her.

He knew she didn’t sleep. But she knew he’d started a strong cigarette habit. “I’ll be fine. Working at the restaurant. And I’ll call Hector to retrieve me at the first time of anything getting weird. How soon do you think you’re leaving?”

“Trying to keep an eye on plane tickets and see when they’re cheapest. Probably a few weeks from now.” He was almost hesitant, as if weighing her reaction.

“Go. Go soon as you can. I’ll be missing out.” Jill teased, “But I’ll survive. Hopefully my shiny, new passport will be in my hands before the holidays. Want coffee?” Chris didn’t drink decaf but she offered anyway. He declined.

“You’re okay with it?” He was looked from her dusty loveseat. Wide, dark eyes. Wrinkles from frowning set across his forehead.

“No. Not really.” She laughed and shook her head, “But I don’t have a passport. Hector would feel pretty weird about me leaving the country to do an underground investigation, he said. Especially for…however long you’re planning.”

“Is it going to be a problem for Hector going forward? Because I have a feeling we’re going to do more of these—”

“Yeah.” Jill was always honest with Chris. It was why it was so refreshing to hang out with him. Of course Hector was going to have a problem about whatever work they got involved in to find evidence about Umbrella Corporation’s atrocities. Why wouldn’t he? It was dangerous. “But he’ll warm up to it. Right now, he’s still trying to grasp the fact that I’m still alive.” Jill smiled.

Chris took a packet of nicotine gum from his pocket and popped it into his mouth, scowling, “Gotta practice for the plane. And…probably should stop smoking.”

“It’s not…the healthiest habit.” Jill stated.

“How’s the sleeping going?”

“It’s not.” And they both laughed.

“You look tired.” He told her.

“So do you.” 

They always procrastinated saying goodbye. Maybe because they both knew how isolated she felt out here in the park, how close she was to the woods and all of its secrets, the house which Wesker once lived in which had been hastily cleaned out by some hired movers. “You okay tonight?” Chris asked her.

“Yes. Thanks. Are you?”

His eyes flicked her up and down, but he cleared his throat and nodded. That whole falling asleep on top of him again as what had happened after the Mansion Incident seemed comfortable, inviting, albeit completely inappropriate. She pushed the thought of any such thing out of her head. But Jill forced her best smile and waved him out the door.

She sighed, suddenly alone and anxious. That was the way she always felt now in what was supposed to be her home. She sidestepped, turning off the light and breathing in relief as darkness cast across the cabin. At least it was harder for anyone to try and see in with the lights off. Jill made sure the curtains were arranged over her sink, using the glow of her phone screen to change into her pajamas and make her way into the bedroom.

Jill lay back on her pillow, staring at her ceiling. As the summer came to an end, the air was finally growing cool enough at night that she didn’t need the fan running. It was pleasantly quiet, and she let herself drift off. A strange, anxious mix between being asleep and awake.

People with tumors. Strange creatures, grotesque and tortured, created in a lab. The bodies that they’d found on the floor. The feeling of falling, diseased dogs tearing into her backpack as she’d screamed and struggled to her feet—

Jill startled herself awake. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

_Safe. You’re safe._

Her phone chimed and she bolted upright, breath in her throat.

_Mom?_

 _Oh fuck. Mom’s calling._ Her mom _didn’t_ call, especially not in the middle of the night.

She scrambled to answer, but managed to drop it on the floor in her stress. Jill dangled over the edge of the bed. Chest tight, heart in her throat, “Mom?” Jill managed. Her heart quivered in her chest.

_“Hey, Jill.”_ Her mom was hoarse, tired, _“It’s about Richard. Your father.”_

\--

**Thanks for reading! I just wanted to get back on the editing/updating horse. Another one should be right behind this before the work hours get intense next week. Best of wishes to everyone <3 **


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks so much for reading. Hope y’all are enjoying the new RE3 as much as I am <3 There’s defiantly gonna be some Jill/Carlos flirtation in this because I’m garbage. **

**These novels were def written to be Valenfield, though, just in case you’ve come across these stories looking for Jill/Carlos after RE3.**

**(Although I might write some of that too because they’re adorable cupcakes together <3) **

**How is everyone doing? Drop me a comment or a message on Tumblr. I love chatting and I’m always down for RPing/coming up with HCs about the characters** **😊**

**ALCOHOL USE**

**Chapter 3:**

Richard Valentine died in his sleep. The trees were a green mass outside the window, blurring together with the sky while she leaned her forehead against the glass, “Pancreatic cancer.” She said. She’d cried with her mom on the phone for a long time. Julie had stayed quiet, listening to her blubber about how she’d said too much to him and put him in danger and didn’t believe for a moment that it was cancer.

_“No, Jilly. He didn’t tell you? He’s had cancer for a long time.”_

_“The timing, mom, the timing.”_

Chris reached wordlessly across the console and touched her arm. The trees rushed past, dark and towering, “Thank you for driving me.” She breathed. It was before sunrise. She’d called him and he answered, immediately agreeing to drive her to the airport in Fredricksburg, the neighboring town. Raccoon was too small and remote of a place to have its own.

“Jill. Really. It’s no problem.” He looked at her sideways. She flipped to the airline app on her phone and checked the boarding pass for the tenth time. Finally, she’d reached Hector, minutes before Chris picked her up. He’d given her his frequent flier miles for the ticket.

“I appreciate it.” She said again, pressing her palm to her eyes, “Mom divorced his ass so long ago I’m surprised she found out first. I’m it. I have to go get his ashes. Because I’m his only living relative.” Jill swallowed, “I don’t think we’re having a funeral.” Words shivery, Chris was quiet, gripping the wheel.

“Jill.” His voice was gentle, “You can do whatever you need to do. I’ll be here. Whatever you need.”

She nodded, not sure she trusted herself to speak. Jill didn’t cry. She’d already done enough of that overnight, and surely Chris could see it in her swollen eyes.

Jill and Richard were never close. But she hadn’t known he had cancer, and certainly didn’t believe it as the main cause.

“They killed him.” She was miserable, face cooled by the glass, “They killed him because he was going to send me information on Umbrella.” 

“They’ll do an autopsy—”

“Apparently he requested to be cremated when he was first diagnosed and refused all treatments. He never signed the paperwork for us to make medical decisions for him. They’ll cremate him this morning.” 

“Maybe you can get an autopsy.”

Jill shook her head, “Talked every avenue with my mom. It’s a no go. I couldn’t get ahold of the prison, either.” She steadied herself, “Mom thinks I’m fucking crazy to request it.”

“You’re not.”

Raccoon Village’s closest neighboring town was Fredricksburg. There was an interstate exit into Raccoon, but Chris preferred to drive the alternative backroad through the Arklay State Park, snaking through the mountain ranges.

_This town is so isolated. No wonder Umbrella built their research facility out here._ It was over an hour of staring at trees before they came to the first stop light, then passed the sign advising that they were coming into Fredricksburg.

Chris pulled in front of the airport. Jill heaved another breath and popped the door open, “Delta?” He confirmed, making sure he was against the curb nearest to where she was to check in.

“Yeah. Delta.” Jill agreed, glancing at her app again. Hector was a member of one of their specialty programs, apparently. She could go sit in some lounge while she waited for the flight to LaGuardia.

“Jill.” He said. She looked at him, feeling nothing besides guilt and misery, “Let me know if you need anything. Please.” She yanked her backpack out of the back bench and jumped out the door. He joined her behind the Jeep, “That everything?” A hand motion to the back hatch.

“I pack light. Mom hates it.” Jill muttered.

Chris smiled, “Okay. You take care, okay? Text me when you get there.”

“Definitely.” She nodded, slinging the pack over her shoulder, “Thanks again.”

And she was through the revolving door. It was a small airport where she breezed through security and promptly sat herself at a breakfast bar in the club room which Hector set up for her, “A bloody Mary. Make it a double.” Jill handed the cocktail menu back to the tender.

Her flight was an hour until boarding, “Looks like you’re having a morning.” The tender winked at her.

Jill grimaced, “Don’t get me started.” He handed her the glass garnished with a celery stalk and she took it, “Thanks.”

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. _Fuck me. Fucking great. Now what?_ She struggled to pull it out of her skinny jean pocket.

**Hey. I’m sorry about your dad. I’m Claire, Chris’ sister. He gave me your number a while ago in case there was ever an emergency. I just wanted to let you know Chris and I are worried about you and we’ll be here for whatever you need from a distance while you’re in NY! I hope that’s not weird <3<3 **

Jill smiled, a burning lump in her throat.

**Thanks, Claire. That’s really sweet of you. I will let you know.**

Her phone chimed again. **He also said that you need a girl to make your mom happy for your wedding planning. I can call her and pretend like we’re dress shopping or whatever if that helps!**

And then, strangely enough, she and Claire were friends. Jill nursed her Bloody Mary and minded the time and texted her.

**I might take you up on that. Mom’s going to want me to have the damn wedding planned.** _While you’re trying to figure shit out with your dead father._

Not that she and her dad were close. _But still._

Jill went for another gulp of her drink.

**Maybe now isn’t the best time to stress over a wedding. Seems like you guys have a lot going on. Chris doesn’t tell me a lot but I know something big happened.**

By the time Jill got on her plane she knew about Claire’s motorcycle, the fact that she designed tattoos and she enjoyed bourbon.

The plane landed fifteen minutes early with the wind being strong in the Northeast direction. Jill made herself as small as possible as she stood in the line of weirdos waiting to get off, backpack hugged in front of her against her pelvis, trying not to bump anyone in the claustrophobic aisle. Eventually, the squabble about whose carry-on was whose at the front of the plane ended and they filed into the gate.

An immediate blast of cold, fresh air from the open seams at the edges of the door. Jill inhaled the crisp New York end of summer morning. Frosty already.

She meandered her way out the door and waited for Hector. He showed, eventually. Backpack dropped into the hatch of his Audi before he managed to get himself out the driver door, “Gotta be quicker on the draw.” She grumbled.

“You handle yourself well.”

Jill smirked at that, and then he wrapped his arms around her. She leaned into him for a moment, “I think foul play happened.” Words breathy again.

“It was cancer, Jill.”

“The timing. Like I keep saying.” She slammed the hatch down and glanced up. A man with a reflective vest and his hand on his pistol. Security. Airport pickups weren’t good places for socializing: “They don’t like us parked here. He’s watching like a hawk.” She pulled away from Hector, “Let’s go.” She jumped into the front seat of his car, almost hitting her head on the roof on her way in as she was used to Chris’ tall Wrangler rather than riding low in a performance car.

_When in New York. Like ‘when in Rome’ or however that saying goes._ Hector punched the accelerator to cut off a minivan and eased them out of the arrivals pickup area. Jill was silent, too tired to talk, “Your mom wants to drive upstate with us. To…get Richard.”

Jill cringed at that. They’d have to get his ashes, “I didn’t plan anything.”

“My mom says you can come to her church and they’ll arrange a service.”

A religion she wasn’t a part of and a congregation she didn’t know, “No, but thank you.” Jill decided, “I think I’ll just go get him. Bring mom along too. I’m the only kid she had, so she was always attached to the fact he was my father, if nothing else. Is she in town?”

“No. She wants to be picked up in Albany.”

Jill found herself getting miffed and quickly checked her phone. No missed messages other than from Claire and Chris while she’d been on the flight. _Why the fuck did you guys come up with this whole plan and not include me considering he’s my father?_ But she kept her tongue tucked in her cheek, texting Chris and Claire that she’d landed safely as she’d assured them both she would, “That’s the plan?”

“Yeah, your mom wants to do wedding stuff in Albany, too.”

Jill was getting overwhelmed. Her brain was spinning, ring twisting on nervous hands, “Does she?”

“Her and my mom made an appointment to sample cakes. I told them it probably wasn’t the best time but—”

“It’s not the best time.” Her voice was harsher than she’d wanted it to be. _Keep it in your pants, Jill._ She’d always been snarky. Hector didn’t like it, though. It wasn’t his fault that Julie, her mother, suffered from a severe case of tunnel vision when anything of the traditional feminine variety such as wedding planning came about.

“I know but—”

“Hector. My dad died. I don’t want to try cakes.” Jill shook her head. They weren’t going to Hector’s place, she realized. He was getting on the highway to drive to Albany.

“It’s that really nice bake shop. The one that we used to watch with the lady on the Food Network.”

“The one that caters for celebrities?” She narrowed her eyes.

He smiled boyishly, “You can’t even get in there. My mom and sister worked some magic—”

What planet was she on right now? She’d left Raccoon Village with the anxiety of expectations to throw together a funeral. ‘Throw together’, was that what people did when someone died? God, Jill was bad at this. She felt whatever flicker of confidence she had go out like a wet match. Now they were talking about wedding cakes? Maybe she just was losing it-- _too many nightmares and too little sleep do that to a woman_. Jill realized she was staring blankly at a cloud. _Cakes. Fucking cakes._ All she could remember was a television show about people with large budgets. “Aren’t they thousands of dollars?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“They’re really expensive. She’s a caterer for million-dollar events, isn’t she? Hector…we’re not spending that on a cake.”

“Let’s just give it a try—”

“I’m picking up my dad’s ashes, okay?” Jill didn’t stop herself from letting her voice get sharp, “I haven’t slept well in weeks—”

“You’re going to see a doctor while you’re here. I’ll make you an appointment. Get some pills to fix that—”

“I’m not going to a fucking doctor.” She snapped, “I’m not taking sleeping pills. They set us up with therapists before they suspended us all. I’ll see her again in Raccoon. Going to need her after this mess.”

She pressed her face into her hand. Phone buzzed in her hand—either Claire or Chris, but she knew if she lifted her head she was going to lose whatever composure she had left, “I’m just trying to help you.” He looked insulted.

“I know. I know.” Jill swallowed. Chris and Claire both asked her how her flight was. _Dammit, Redfields!_ Why did they have to be the normal ones on the literal other side of the country?

_You ain’t normal either, Jill. Better suck it up, cupcake._ This was her mess of a family and her responsibility. “We thought it would cheer you up.” Hector was saying.

“Right…I’m just tired. I’m sorry.” She was looking out the window.

_Flight was good, Chris. You’ll never believe fucking Hector and his mom and my mom. They thought it would be a good idea to sample cakes at a bakery where the lady charges ten grand for them._

Then they could laugh. And maybe even drink bourbon. Because like Claire, that had been her father’s drink of choice.

She just had to get through the next few days. And find a quiet place to send some texts. Maybe she’d even tag along and meet this Claire character next time Chris went to visit her, “Well, hey. Get some sleep on the ride. Your mom wants to know about the wedding party, too. Thought I’d warn you. I asked Sonia and she’d be delighted to join as a bridesmaid if it makes your life easier.”

_Sonia. Who the fuck is Sonia? Oh. Fuck. Sonia. MLM diet pills._

Maybe Jill’s snark wasn’t completely gone, because it was out of her mouth before she could stop herself: “No need for Sonia. I don’t even know Sonia. Yeah. Chris’ sister. Claire. She’s great. She’ll be a bridesmaid. Figure Chris will be an unofficial bridesmaid too. Mom’s gonna’ deal with it.”

Hector blinked at that: “Think those people will make it up to New York?”

Jill paused, “Why wouldn’t they?” 

“It’s a long trip. Some of my college buddies are balking at us entertaining an Albany venue rather than Manhattan.”

“Chris and Claire are my friends. They’re a little less put off by simple logistical things. They’re rugged.”

“Noted.” And thankfully he let her sit in silence after that.

\--

**Couple of the year.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to all my readers as always : )**

**Suggested listening: _Sugar, We’re Going Down_ Fallout Boy **

**NSFW with Jilly-Bean in this chapter. Enjoy : )**

**Chapter 4:**

Claire Redfield considered herself an easy-going person. She knew how to run her mouth, sure, but that’s what happened when you were raised by your older brother and spent half your formative years in foster care.

_Boundaries. Boundaries are good._ That was what a million and one self-help articles across social media always proclaimed. Didn’t have to be happy with every situation. She sat at the table of the coffee shop, putting on the best-damn-people-pleaser-smile if she didn’t say so herself. _Being nice, remember? Inviting._ Claire always considered herself friendly. That was a Redfield thing— she and Chris could talk to just about anyone about anything.

That all said—this woman was starting to annoy her. First of all she’d just decided to sit across from Claire when she was trying to study without an invitation. Second of all, she was fidgety. Claire supposed everyone had their own different coping mechanisms or needs to move, but the way she kept cocking her head sideways was strange.

“I hope you don’t mind I sat with you.” She said.

Claire swallowed. It was a university café. There was always a shortage of tables at these places, “No. Not at all.” She carefully folded her notebook, trying to make more room at the table.

“You’re Claire, aren’t you?”

Claire flicked her up and down. She seemed a little older than most of the students. Beautiful, her skin so flawless it looked like it was airbrushed, natural curly hair picked into an afro. Wearing an expensive looking blazer. “Are you in one of my classes?”

She wore thick glasses which reflected the light strangely and made it hard to see her eyes. Something about that was off putting as well. Wasn’t she getting a headache? “No. No. I’m a friend of your brother’s. Chris.”

“Oh.” Claire stated.

Chris had a lot of friends. He was good at that. The fact that one of his friends from buttfuck-nowhere Raccoon Villiage somehow was here and picked her out of a crowd made something tingle in Claire’s arms and gooseflesh raise on her skin.

“You’re…Chris’ friend?” Claire swallowed. She glanced over her shoulder. An oblivious, long line of students waiting for a latte. Nobody else sneaking up. She was in public, at least. But it didn’t make this any less uncomfortable.

“Used to work with him.”

“You were a game warden?”

“Something like that.”

That only managed to put Claire off more. “Oh. Well…I really should…get going.” She decided. Chris had taught her a few things about self-defense. One of them being that she should never remove her eyes from someone who was threatening her.

Claire stuffed her notebook into her backpack, making sure to keep watching from her peripherals. _Are you being mean? Maybe she just wants a friend._

“What’s he doing lately? Chris?”

“I…” Claire paused. _Something big happened._ She didn’t know what. And Jill hadn’t given her much information either. But everything in Claire’s body was tense and quivery now, “I…I don’t really talk to him.” That was a blatant lie, but this woman wasn’t making much effort to hide her creepiness.

“Are you going to Europe with him?” She asked.

“Chris isn’t going to Europe. I think you have us confused with somebody else.” Claire stood, glanced over her shoulder, and pushed her way out the front door of the library.

She paused in the crowd to look behind her, the woman stepped out of the library from the same front door, immediately turning the opposite direction to gun for a car pulled to the side of the road. An expensive, low-riding thing driven by a woman with short straight black hair. Large glasses on her as well.

The one with the curly hair yanked open the passenger door and jumped in. The driver laid on her horn at the group of pedestrians and sped off.

_Weird._

Claire pulled out her phone. She considered sending Chris a text about it. _Something big happened._ Were people listening to their conversations? Spying on their texts? Claire did watch a lot of action movies.

But there was an off feeling that she couldn’t shake.

**A lady came to see me and was acting super weird. Said she knew you. Should I be worried?**

The reply dinged when she was halfway walked to her next class.

**Weird. Idk about it. Be careful. Some weird stuff happened with our last investigation and there might be people trying to get info.**

 _Media sharks. Nice try._ Claire thought smugly and tucked her phone back into her pocket. It all made sense—Jill and Chris were in the middle of a big investigation, maybe even something that would some day be a crime documentary. She was a regular watcher of such things. That’s why they couldn’t tell her about it. Open investigations were kept under wraps like that.

_Keep up the good work, I guess._

\--

Jill stared at the box. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting. Julie was working on having sobs loud enough for the entire building to hear her. Howling about how Richard was her daughter’s only father and blowing her nose loudly into the wad of tissues Hector had offered from his pocket. _Oh, mom._ Jill kept a grip on Julie’s elbow, hoping she was worth some comfort to her until she came to the table and saw the box.

A box and a bag.

Jill looked at the box. Everything seemed to quiet around her.

Richard was _in the box_. A little stone urn. The plastic bag had a folded piece of paper and a chain with a bar necklace, “This is for Jill.” The man who led them in, whose name she forgot, said, “Richard wanted Jill to have these.”

The necklace was silver, the name: VALENTINE engraved into the surface. She remembered him wearing it. With a trembling hand Jill took the chain and heaved a sigh. Her fingers were numb. She fastened it behind her neck. Hector reached to help her but she sidestepped. If he touched her right now she might actually loose it. Julie was already doing enough losing it for the lot of them.

With her new necklace on and Richard tucked under her arm, Jill shoved her mother out the door of the mortuary building. Hector was driving, thankfully. One thing he’d made himself useful for since she’d gotten back to New York.

_You’re being too hard on everyone._ Julie took it upon herself to take the front seat, so Jill sat with Richard in his box next to her on the back bench, “Mom. Where should we…put him?”

Julie let out a quivery sob. Hector patted her leg, “He’s your dad, Jilly.”

Jill swallowed and was glad she was back here away from Hector and Julie who’d just gotten themselves into a circle jerk about the meaning of life. She looked at the box. _Oh, dad. You left me with this._ That was something she and him could have a good laugh about.

_‘Your mom is something else, isn’t she, Bean?’_ Jill remembered those words. Probably the time when she and Julie almost killed each other when she was a teenager and Julie had blown up at her about not wearing a dress and makeup on school picture day. Seeing her father was rare, but she’d made it a point to see him after school that day. He’d served her stovetop mac n’ cheese and made her feel better about the whole incident so she could go home without a round two of arguing. The memory made her smile.

“How about your house, mom?” She interrupted Hector as she sensed him about to get into a preachy speech about how they all had always enjoyed watching the same sunset although they lived in different places and Jill was about to puke regardless from the situation.

“He’s your father.”

“I might be moving home. Especially after everything.” Jill had been pondering it a while. She twisted the diamond ring on her finger. If Chris was gone from Raccoon Village in the coming month she wasn’t sure how comfortable she was living on the edge of Arklay Park alone.

“Really?” Hector beamed at her in the rearview.

“Don’t push it. Let me figure some things out.”

_Sorry dad. Sorry we’re all so dysfunctional. Sorry this was such a cluster. I’m sorry if it wasn’t cancer._ And at the last thought she used her sleeve to quickly wick the tears from the corners of her eyes.

There was still the baggie the necklace had come in. Jill squinted at it and saw the folded paper. She pulled it out.

_Jilly-Bean,_

_There’s somebody you should meet. His name is Clive O’Brien. His daughter and wife went missing in the Arklay Forest and he’s never been the same since._

_Got deep pockets. Sure he could help you out if you ever needed it._

_\--Richard._

He had gotten her information after all. Jill swallowed and tucked the note carefully into her pocket. Julie and Hector were busy talking again and she was glad to zone out, watching the city turn back to the suburb where her mother had a small house.

Hector had to stay up that night to catch up on work calls. Jill found herself sprawled on the musty mattress in her mother’s basement. Pleasantly cool, and far from the blaring of the television while Julie binged her recorded soap operas after her long days keeping her boutique store running.

Jill was alone. _Thank god._ She twisted the ring on her finger. Sure, she cared about Hector. She took the ring, after all. Said yes. But she just _didn’t want him in her space right now._

She was antsy, as she usually was, and the melatonin pills she relied on to sleep now did little tonight. Despite the pleasant coolness of the basement, it still felt like her pants were clinging to her sweaty legs.

Jill flattened herself onto her stomach.

_There’s one way to fall asleep._

And she was alone, anyway. Worst case Hector caught her in the act and helped her the rest of the way.

_Ugh. No, not that tonight. Don’t come and awkwardly hump me._ And then she felt another wave of guilt that she was going to be getting married and needed to get her head out of her ass.

Perhaps a more logical side of her: _fuck it. Jill, you’re having a rough go. Have an orgasm. Hector won’t be done working for hours, anyway._

She curled the blankets between her legs, face pressed into the pillow. She rocked her hips against the fabric, just enough so the seam of the pajama pants to hit her in the right spot.

_Back home. Her hands against the counter. “From the back.” Her fantasy self asked the man behind her._ Jill hadn’t had good pressure on her g-spot in a long time. Hector liked to face her when he had sex with her, which was gentlemanly, she supposed. But even so, Jill usually struggled to finish during sex. From the back with constant pressure on her g-spot always got her the closest. It was a shame Hector didn’t like that position better.

She ground herself into the blankets again, sighing. _Strong hands gripping her hips, “You ready?”_

_“About time.” She said back. Imagining a hard push inside of her. Jill sighed._

_“You okay?”_ It jarred her for a moment. Her stupid brain. That was _Chris’_ voice not Hector’s.

Jill paused herself. _Well, it’s a fantasy. Chris dates models—he’d laugh his ass off if you were getting off to him. Not to mention you’re engaged to someone else._ Jill felt guilty again. _It’s a fantasy. After a long day. That you’d never, ever act on. Nor would you or Chris want to._

_She imagined Chris’ hands strong around her waist, pushing into her with hard, slow thrusts while she gripped the counter. He stretched her pleasantly, the pain of his size mixing with the nice fullness and rubbing on her front wall, “Fuck me, Chris, come on. Like you mean it. I won’t break.” She pushed her ass back into him._

Jill ground herself harder down into the blankets.

_He obliged her, voice raspy in her ear: “God, you’re fucking beautiful like this.”_

_“Keep going, keep going.”_

_“You want to beg for it?” Chris’ hand circling in front of her, dipping between her legs to play with her sensitive clit. Jill was always so sensitive there. She imagined him pinching her, just a little too hard, making her yelp and clench down on him._

_“Please, Chris, come on. I haven’t cum from sex in so damn long.”_

_And in her fantasy he would finish her, rub her clit until she finally shattered and his comforting weight would collapse on top of her._

Jill’s body throbbed as she got herself over the edge. She felt her muscles all relax, quick breaths into her pillowcase.

_He would literally laugh you into oblivion, Jill. Literally. What the hell is wrong with you? Poor Hector!_

But the afterglow of endorphins was enough to make her feel rubbery and comfortable. She puffed out a sigh. Her mother’s musty basement became distant as she drifted to sleep.

Eventually Hector came. Jill laid there, half asleep, waiting for him to do something. Anything. But he did nothing, just quietly slipped into the bed beside her. His weight shifting the mattress.

_That’s your own fault. You acted like you wouldn’t want to be touched all day. Now he’s being polite not to wake you. Why would you expect a goodnight kiss now? He knows you’re not cuddly._

Jill closed her eyes, and again the ghost of Chris was back in her fantasy. His warm body pressing against hers, arms wrapped around her waist.

_“If you need anything, Jill. Anything. Claire and I are here for you.”_ And she drifted off.

_\--_

**Poor Jill! Thanks for reading : )**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

_Jill was in her cabin, curled in the blankets and sweat. She startled herself awake, a sharp inhale as she sat up and strained to see. Wind whistled out outside the window, a crash of the gust catching her box fan and ripping it partially out._

_Sky bright with a fresh hit of lightening in the forest, illuminating rain falling in sheets. The ground rumbled beneath her feet. Jill yanked her window closed. Her hands felt sluggish, body tired. Heart pounding in her chest. Normal. Everything was normal, right? Another flash of lightening._

_The all too familiar anxiety clawed its way into her throat. Electricity of the storm and her instincts cast gooseflesh across her body despite the warmth, tiny hairs on her arms stood on end. Jill’s feet were moving, then. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but she reached to her neck, feeling a warm, soft lump at the skin above her collar bone._

_No. No. No. Heart faster. Jill felt sick, stomach dropping and churning. Heavy hands fumbled the light switch in her bathroom. Her own appearance in the mirror, immediately fixated on the lump on her neck._

_Another one on her bicep. Her eyes turning grey. Jill staggered backwards, heart in her throat. Pain. It should be more painful? The pain was coming, surely. Her eyes were turning silvery—dead. Dying. Soon she’d be one of them. The undead, tumor filled victims of T-Virus. A mindless, feral creature._

_Not this way. On her own terms._

_She fumbled for her pistol, left on her sink for some reason from the night previously. Jill raised it to her temple, she choked on a sob, and—_

“Jill!” Firm hands on her hip and elbow. She stiffened. First instinct was to recoil but she stopped herself, sucking in deep breaths of the must in her mother’s basement. _Home. You’re in Albany. Safe._

“Hector. Sorry.” She panted. Her own hand touching lightly to her neck. No lumps. Another heavy sigh of relief, “Dreaming.”

“Nightmares?”

“Yeah.” Jill nodded, “That I had the virus.”

“The bioweapon that spilled?” He asked. Even in the dark she could see the air quote he made with his fingers. He believed her, Jill knew, but that stung. Maybe it was just force of habit with the air quotes. He struggled to grasp how widespread Umbrella’s experiments were, the fact she and Chris were convinced more labs existed was daunting to him.

“Yeah.” He rubbed her back and she cringed, “The symptoms were tumors. Then the victims died. Got delirious and tried to bite.”

“Zombies.” Hector said.

Jill nodded, “I’m not going to be a zombie.”

“Well that’s all done now.”

“Umbrella is still out there and there were infected animals in town.” Jill sighed, “I think the corporation tried to cover and we saw hired men with guns out in vans cleaning up the forest for weeks after but I don’t know. That’s why I’d like you to stop buying their stupid stocks.”

“Have to do what work and the clients tell me to do.” Hector patted her leg. She was thirsty, and untangled herself from the sheets, rougher than she meant to, “What’s the matter?”

“I haven’t slept in fucking weeks.” Jill lamented, face in her hands, “I need water and more melatonin.” She after another pill and a fresh glass of water she managed to doze until Hector poked her awake at six in the morning.

“Cake appointment, remember?”

“I thought you’d forget about that.” Jill groaned. She _actually had_ been asleep that time. And now she wasn’t. Anxious about Umbrella and the logistics of getting picked up from the airport the next day and her fucking wedding.

“What?”

“Can we cancel?” Jill spoke through a yawn as she forced herself up on her elbows.

“My mom and sister are already driving in.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead, “Get up.”

Half asleep, wearing her dad’s necklace with a coffee thermos in her hand, Jill let Hector drive her. Hector’s mom, Martha, along with Leah and Lexi, his sisters, “Why aren’t you made up? We’ve got to do pictures.” Martha told her.

“I…Don’t have any.” She hadn’t actually pulled it out of its bag in months, not since the Arklay incident. A whole new concern about touching her face and viral transmission. Makeup wasn’t a common practice for Jill, anyway.

“Don’t have any or didn’t bring it?” Martha barked. She was a short, voluptuous blonde woman with the same steely blue eyes as Hector. A bad knee and hip made her walk with a distinct wobbling gait.

“Didn’t bring it and don’t wear it.” Jill felt herself getting hot. _Don’t get snippy._ But this was already not something she wanted to do this morning. _They’re being nice. Be nice!_

Jill wasn’t hungry. She was sad and tired. The shop tossed a sash over her head proclaiming her as the bride and sat her at the head of a table. _Just smile and get through it._

It was weird doing this with an audience. The shop only brought out samples for her and Hector yet the women stood and watched them as if they were watching a sporting event: “Smile!” Martha ordered them.

Jill, wearing her favorite faded Raccoon Fish and Game Hoodie with her bobbed hair still dented from sleeping pigtails, cringed herself into a smile for Martha’s phone. _Photos. Of course._ She’d promptly deleted her sparse social media after the Arklay Mansion Incident so it wasn’t like it mattered or she’d ever see the damn things. Julie could get mad at her for wearing a hoodie later and call her about the pictures.

She felt like she couldn’t taste anything. She hated herself for being dramatic and bad company. Then loathed herself again for the fact she wasn’t enjoying it. Hector drove her home, Jill preferred chocolate cake but it wasn’t traditional and Martha and the girls wanted white for the pictures. It was fine, Jill supposed. A wedding was one mortifying day to suffer through.

They drove home quietly. No decision made. “We’ll have to put in a check.” He told her, “The deposit.”

“That seems ridiculous for a cake. I know wedding cakes are expensive but what do we need to serve, fifty? At most? Why the hell does that cost five grand?”

“It’s good cake—”

“It’s cake and I don’t like vanilla.” Jill said, “It seems like a lot of money.”

“We ordered at least two hundred save the dates and mom ordered more—”

“More? What is our date? And who are you inviting? I have seven people! Six now. With dad gone.” Jill cried. She was tired and getting annoyed, “I just wanted a courtroom, remember? And then our moms got mad. A small party. Hundreds isn’t a small party.”

“But we’re handling the planning so you don’t have to worry—”

“That’s not the point.” She sighed, twisting the ring on her finger. It felt like things were spiraling beyond her realm of control and she needed to hit the breaks, “We need to stop.” He pulled his car onto her mom’s driveway.

“What?”

“We need to stop planning the wedding. I’m too stressed right now. I’ll get with your mom and finalize the guest list and I’ve got to hold my ground on this. I need the money. I need to buy a new car since I still haven’t with the old one dying. I can’t do a lavish wedding—”

“We’ll get you a car. I’ll lend you money.”

“No. That’s not the point. The point is it’s our wedding and my dad just died and I’m in the middle of a damn conspiracy.” Jill explained. She got out of the car, marching up to the garage door. _Now or never. Put your foot down._ “Hector.” Jill said, “We need to talk about this.”

He looked at her, concerned. _You’re not being fair to him. You’re a mess. You’re closer to crying right now than anything else._ She stopped short of walking into her mother’s house, “What?”

“Hector. I think we’re on a…different page.”

“What do you mean? You’re moving back to Albany—”

“Yeah.” Jill swallowed, “Yeah. I’m scared to be alone in Raccoon Village—”

“Why?” He looked strangely at her, “People getting creepy?”

She closed her eyes. Why was he being so thick? That or she was too tired that getting her point across, “Umbrella. I’m scared of being near mom, too. But if Chris goes to Europe I’m going to be alone there. And I know I’m being trailed. I see the people, they haven’t gotten to New York but I know they’re following me—”

“Call the police. I’m sure you have friends in the station—”

“My friends at the station are dead and I’m suspended. My dad just died. My future mother in law mouthed at me for not wearing makeup to a cake tasting that I didn’t know was happening because I flew up here to plan a funeral.”

Hector tossed his arms and shook his head, “It’s a stressful time and we’re trying to help you—”

“I…” Jill shook her head, “I’m going to get out of your cabin. I have nightmares to the point I haven’t slept well in a long time. I want to marry you, Hector. But can we…stop planning the wedding for a minute?”

He looked at her blankly, “Why?”

Jill heaved a breath, she reached down to her hand and took off her ring, offering it out to him and swallowing the lump in her throat, “I’m not saying no. I’m just saying I need a break. Let me move back up here and sleep and then we’ll start fresh. And I’ll be actually worth shit for the planning.”

“You don’t have to plan anything—”

“It’s my wedding.” Jill said, “I don’t want the cake. I don’t even want to wear a dress but I already have to compromise on that because my mom sells dresses for a living.” He smirked at that.

“Jillian—”

“Don’t ‘Jillian’ me.” She said, “I’m a train wreck. And we both know it. I’ll write you a check for the plane tickets.”

“No.” He shook his head, “Are you trying to be done?”

“I…I no.” Jill was shaking her head, “I need a break. I need to get my head back on straight. I want to be just Jill. Then I can be your fiancé when I’m back here. And we’re close and we can do this right.”

He pressed his lips together. Brow furrowed. Sad. Jill felt the lump in her own throat, “Okay.” He breathed, nodding, “Can I give you a hug? Do you need a ride back to the city?”

“Mom already wanted to drive me. No need.” And she let him hug her, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

Jill’s mom found her at the kitchen table that evening at the bottom of a bottle of wine. She rocked in her seat, the buzz had taken away most of her sadness, instead she was almost relaxed enough to sleep where she sat, “Didn’t save any for me, Jillian?”

“There’s-s another in the fridge.” She slurred.

“you okay? Where’s Hector?”

Jill showed her hand. Julie’s eyes widened, “We took a break.” Jill wobbled on the chair, “They made me sample cakes today—”

“They made you sample cakes when you came to plan a funeral?” Julie looked at her incredulously, sinking into the chair across from her, “I’m going to open that other bottle.”

“You didn’t know about that? Martha and the sisters were there. Martha bitched at me that I wasn’t made up.”

“You’re never made up.” Julie popped open the fridge. Jill stood to help her with the corkscrew and quickly caught herself against the counter, “Sit down. Crazy drunk daughter of mine. You’ll be sicker than a dog on that plane tomorrow.”

“It’s not until the evening. You can still drive me, right?”

Julie laughed at that, “Yes.” And Jill managed to stutter out how she decided she needed to move home and restart with Hector. To her surprise, Julie hugged her gently, tipping her drunk head into her chest while she stood next to the chair where Jill was sitting and patting her hair. The alcohol loosened Jill enough to lean into her and sigh, “Is it that Chris guy?”

That was sobering. Jill blinked and pulled back, “What?”

“You and Chris. In Raccoon Villiage. That warden. Is it him?”

This is why she and Julie didn’t always talk about things, “There’s no other man.”

“Don’t you want children of your own? I struggled with my pregnancy. You’ll want to do it young.”

“Wasn’t I an accident and a shotgun wedding?” Jill pinched the bridge of his nose, “At least Hector’s not a jailbird. Grandchildren aren’t happening, mom.”

“I’m just saying be careful if you decide to explore because that make it awkward with Hector—”

“I’m not getting knocked up! I’m not having sex with anyone else. Jesus, mom. I can’t even take care of myself you should see what my kitchen looks like lately.”

Julie sucked down a glass of the cheap zinfandel, laughing. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Jill said, not unkindly.

“Shut up and drink, you’re about to move back into my basement.” Julie splashed more wine in her glass. Jill tipped her head into the cool surface of the table.

“It’s your fault I’m like this—”

“Mouthy?” Julie tried, “Bet your ass it is. But you’re no lady. Your father made sure of that.” Julie clinked her glass against Jill’s.

“To Richard.” Jill said without lifting her face from the surface.

“To Richard. Come back and plan your wedding once you’ve slept. Martha means well. So does Hector. And moisturize your face, would you? I can’t stand it.”

“I should have just shut up and taken the cake.” Jill’s dizzy drunkenness was turning to pure exhaustion. She managed a sip of her fresh glass before pushing it away from her. “Martha wanted to order it then and there. She was about to call you.”

“I would have told you to suck it up and order it. Marriage is hard. That’s why it’s marriage. But you’re you and you’re your father’s daughter so it’ll be even harder—believe me, I was married to him. And you’ll get your damn dress and cake when you get back here.”

She nodded against the table. Her phone buzzed.

**Chris Redfield:**

**Hey. Hope everything went okay and you were able to get out of cake tasting. Let me know how you’re doing and if you still need a ride home from the airport tomorrow.**

And that message made her deflate. She’d have to explain this whole garbage fire to Chris. It was probably better in person. At least he might take her side for it. Jill felt too down on herself and tired to even attempt a text about it.

**Good. Drunk. In honor of dad1. Ya pleas on the ride.**

Chris replied: **Enjoy. I’ll be there.**

Setting her phone to the side, Jill had to grab the edges of the table to steady herself as it felt like the kitchen was tipping sideways, “My poor silly kid.” Julie drawled, “How about a cup of coffee? And a glass of water.” 

**\--**

**Enjoy <3 Drop me a comment **


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

“You guys are teaming up on me. Why is Claire involved?” Jill rolled her eyes.

_“Because you called me! Trying to get me to take your side! Your self-loathing side!”_ Claire was laughing, _“He’s lucky you didn’t dump him. It’s even worse now if she got mad about makeup.”_

Chris sat at the breakfast bar in her cabin, “At least Jill did give the ring back.” Jill turned her glare toward Chris and he held his hands up defensively, “If the week my parents died a woman tried to get me to go sample cakes—”

_“And snarked you for not wearing makeup—”_

“You don’t even eat vanilla cake, you said—”

“Guys!” Jill felt herself deflate. Normally she was above bickering. Jill knew her opinions, it didn’t matter what others thought, but now suddenly the Redfields had decided to team up against Hector. The way Chris and Claire had decided to run with this was sending Jill down a self-second-guessing rabbit hole.

_“No, you listen here, Jill. Hector is lucky you didn’t rip him a new asshole—”_

Chris stiffened, “Claire!”

Apparently the Redfields really didn’t think the temporary break with Hector was a mistake. Her mother and Martha had already both sent her literature about the difficulties of being married.

_“Oh, stop it.”_ Claire shot back, _“Jill, what the fuck are you upset with yourself about? Turn your phone off. Martha’s your mother in law…Future mother in law. Even taking the ring back in Albany if you move back there is a huge fucking favor if you ask me after the shit they’ve been pulling. I Facebook stalked and Martha still was posting pictures from the cake tasting—”_

“Pictures?” Chris asked.

“Yeah they made me pose while eating.”

He snorted at that, “Jesus.”

“It was his mom and sisters not him.” Jill defended, “You guys—”

_“Yeah but fucking weird still if you ask me. Were they trying to make you as uncomfortable as possible?”_ Claire demanded, “ _Whatever Jill. I’m just some chick you don’t know but a break at least was a good idea. Don’t be down on yourself. I won’t agree with you that it was a bad idea to take a break.”_

“Claire’s right.” Chris told her. He was just sitting there on the stool and looking at her, his hair gelled and spiky. Soft, dark eyes looking at her, “They needed a wakeup call. I’m not trying to be mean to Hector or his family but the whole thing sounds a little—”

_“Fucked up?”_ Claire interrupted.

“I was going to say tone deaf! Claire. That’s her fiancé still.”

_“Pfft. Whatever. I don’t know Hector I can talk shit. Jill’s my friend not him.”_

“Thank you, Chris.” At least he was on her side somewhat. Claire was just about ready to jump down Hector’s throat. But apparently Claire had that same Redfield hot-headedness that she’d heard about more than once. She’d seen Chris go off on Wesker in the weeks following the mansion incident, and she’d seen him light into the Umbrella-bribed Chief Irons, getting himself escorted out of the Raccoon Fish and Game office and a lifetime ban from re-entering, “He’s…my boyfriend now. And will be my fiancé when I move back. So I’d rather…not talk shit.”

“It was a demotion.” Chris stated.

Jill sensed the joke in there and glared at him. Claire was thankfully silent. “It was…a break.” Jill stated.

Chris broke before she did, his laugh started and he didn’t stop.

“It’s not funny.” Jill tried to muster her venom but it wasn’t working, “It’s not fucking funny.” She was laughing too then.

Claire laughing with her, _“It’s fucking hilarious that they wanted to spend that price on the damn cake. What was the cake made of? Solid gold?”_

“Umbrella Corporation stocks.” Chris stated and Jill tried to yell at him again but she couldn’t.

_“Why Umbrella?”_ Claire asked.

“Never mind.” Jill managed, face in her hands. Claire didn’t know anything about Umbrella or Chris’ trip and she didn’t intend to be the one to tell her, “I’m too hungover for you people.”

_“At least you’re single-ish until you move home.”_ Claire tried.

_Goddamn-it, Claire._

“Goodnight, Claire.” Chris cut in. Maybe he sensed her going to say something further and hung up the phone, “Sorry about that.”

“She’s a good reality check.” Jill puffed out her cheeks.

“On the bright side, I think we both are standing in your corner on this.”

He was right. They were, “Thanks.”

“Why are you feeling bad about it?”

“I sent him back to New York with the ring.”

“That’ll learn him.” Chris shrugged.

“He owns this cabin.”

“You’re moving.” Chris shrugged again. She sat on the other bar stool, “Are you okay? Really? It’s been a weekend for you.”

“That’s a fuckin’ understatement.”

Chris reached for her hesitantly. He was touchier than she, but Jill leaned toward him to let him give her a rub on the back. His hand lingered for a moment before he pulled back. A sudden flash of memory of the humiliating fantasy of him bending her over this same damn counter. _Forget it, Jill. Laugh you into oblivion, remember?_ Chris was Chris—the handsome dark eyes, sun kissed olive skin, strong as a damn ox. Jill swallowed and gave him a reassuring smile. “It must be hard.” He assured her, “I remember losing my parents. It’s always hard.” She went to play with her ring out of habit but found her hand surprisingly light. A relief that she no longer had to worry about losing it and didn’t have to think about texting Hector tonight. A break was what they needed. Healthy. Jill’s mental capacity was fried. 

Jill nodded along, “And losing my fiancé too. They sent me marriage advice, Chris. I feel like shit.”

“I don’t know if marriage is supposed to be your mother in law trying to strongarm you into buying a multi-thousand-dollar cake. But what the hell do I know?” Chris told her, “If anything you’re the most rational one here.”

Jill laughed, “I think you have a good point.”

“Because I do have a good point.” Chris cocked his eyebrows at her, “He needed a wakeup call. His family and him were out of line. You don’t need to deal with it now.”

She adjusted the chain of the necklace from her father on her neck, “Yeah. You’re right.”

The following Saturday rolled around. Slowly life found its way back to a degree of normalcy (if Jill and her lack of sleeping could call her life anything normal now). Smelling like grease and ketchup as she always did after the long breakfast service, Jill shed her restaurant clothes onto the floor. Her sorry, crinkled handful of tips counted out on the counter. Hardly scraped minimum wage when she added it out for the ten hours she’d been on her feet. _God, you’re shit at waitressing. New job Albany._ It didn’t help that the season was ending and the restaurant’s business was starting to settle into its off season lull. It had been a miserable, cold rain all day. No one wanted to sit and eat breakfast at the park’s edge.

Jill popped off her bra and flung it into the breezeway laundry room. She stepped into her bathroom and turned on the shower.

Glancing down. Her feet fucking hurt from standing on the tile. She needed better shoes. _You need a soak._

She did have a tub base to her shower. Never used. _Better late than never. You’re moving the fuck out of here._ There was a package of peppermint-something-or-other bubble bath which had been a Christmas gift from an acquaintance and had followed under her sink the last few moves. Jill grabbed it, dumped more than a third of the bottle into the tub, and ran the water hot.

She sunk herself down beneath the foam, hissing through her teeth as she adjusted to the heat of the water. Jill leaned her head back and sighed.

Maybe she should have had the forethought to grab a book before getting in here, but Jill found her mind slowing down for the first time since she could remember.

_Temporarily single. Give it some time. You’ll fix everything when you go back to Albany._

A distant chime. Her phone which was set on the counter beside her. She opted to ignore it, instead reaching down and letting her mind wander again. About someone. A lover. Of course his face was Chris’ but surely that was her subconscious playing a joke on her. She was just annoyed with Hector right now and Chris was the closest male friend she had. She was allowed to fantasize—especially if they were taking a break.

Her desires were more domestic tonight. Jill tipped her head back to wet her short hair, grabbing a handful of shampoo. Too much, but she didn’t care, anything to get rid of the stale fryer grease smell. _She imagined Chris crouching beside the tub while she lay there, his lips grazing over hers._

Jill dipped her head down again, a stupid attempt to rinse her hair when the water was already full of soap. _This is a little too intimate of a daydream it’s making it weird._

She cut herself off before letting her mind further down that path. Maybe she’d revisit it later. One of the dirtier imagination trips where he tossed her onto the bed and she let him take whatever he wanted—that would be a good way to fall asleep.

Another chime from her phone. Then another. _Speak of the devil._ Not too many people texted her regularly other than Chris and Claire, especially in the last week with she and Hector’s relationship taking its arm’s length rest until she returned to Albany. Jill reached out, cringing as her wet hand dripped on her phone screen, and opened the messages, **Hey! I think I need to talk to you. Are you working tomorrow? Are you going to be up?**

Then more messages from Chris:

**I’m headed over. Long story.**

**I’m here. Are you home? Sorry to drop in.**

Then, her phone ringing. Chris. “Hey. What’s wrong?” Jill hung her head over the edge of the tub to not drop her phone in the water in the event it was to slip out of her wet hand.

_“Hey! Sorry. Bad time?”_

“I’m…in the tub. Hold on.” She hung up the phone. Jill pulled the drain open and stood. She was getting hot from the steam, anyway. A glance around her bathroom. Fuck. Of course she didn’t carry clothes in with her. They were all in the drier because she hadn’t taken them out last night.

The humidity from the steam clung to her face and back. She did her best to towel herself and wrap it around her body. Jill looked out the peephole of her door first and satisfied that it was only Chris, yanked the door open, “Hold on. I need clothes.”

“Oh. Shit. Sorry.” Chris said awkwardly, still standing on the porch as she backed away from the partially opened door. She left a trail of wet footprints on the aging linoleum floor.

“You can come in I’m just in a towel.”

“Ah…okay.” He slipped through the door, his eyes on the ground, “Sorry.”

“If you haven’t seen a girl in a towel before, Redfield, then I don’t know what to tell you at this point.” She called, stepping through the first breezeway door into her laundry room, on the back side of the small cabin, “Don’t make it weird.”

She watched Chris sink onto the loveseat by her front door from her peripherals. Jill held the towel with one hand, trying not to bend too far over into the drier as she dug out a pair of flannel pants and an old t-shirt, “Not sure I took you for the candles and baths type.”

“Do you see any candles?” Jill held her towel and a wrinkled wad of clothes against her chest. The uncomfortable feeling of her hair dripping down her back.

“If you live out here and don’t own a candle you’re a madwoman.”

“Why?” She crinkled her nose, setting the bathroom door shut and letting the towel drop. Her skin was still tacky with moisture and it was hard to pull the thick cotton of the shirt over her soap-sticky hair.

“Power outage?”

“I have a lantern! And a flashlight!”

“What if the battery dies?” Chris pressed.

“What if matches get wet?” Jill quipped back, stuffing her legs into the flannels and coming out the door, “What the hell is going on? Are you okay?”

Chris shook his head, “I think Brad and I saw Bryer. On the way back from the donut shop.”

Jill blinked at him, “Who?”

“Bryer.”

Jill squinted at him, “Not Bryer that Wesker shot.”

“It’s not far fetched. She could be alive.”

“He shot her in the head. She was dead.” Jill stated. She ran her hand over the table, using it to ground herself. _Smooth table. Seam on the edge. Home. Safe._ The image of Bryer grabbing the young intern, Rebecca Chambers, by the neck. _The crack of gunshots and both women falling to the ground. Pieces of Zahara’s skull and blood pooling around her head while lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling._

“She was parked in a car outside the hospital. An expensive car. Watching. And she had glasses on but she looked awful damn familiar and then gunned for the road to Fredricksburg.” Jill was shaking her head while Chris was talking about it.

“No way.”

“I’m pretty sure. Or I wouldn’t have dropped Brad off and come over here. She acted like she knew we spotted her and took off. Screeched her tires. Out of state license plate too. Nevada. Maybe a rental car.” Chris was saying.

Jill swallowed, pushing her still soapy and sopping hair back. A towel pulled from out of the hall closet to wrap around her head. She looked out her front window. As the sky darkened the streetlights came on, casting a warm glow on the cold, wet street. Her small, state-park surrounded neighborhood had quieted for the night. A single, dark cabin across the street.

Dr. Wesker’s house. One of the people who’d been a friend of hers. A façade friendship to get closer to law enforcement members in the city and help cover the illegal dealings and experiments he had a hand in preforming for Umbrella Corporation. Nobody had been at the house in weeks. Not since she’d seen some of the furniture quietly unloaded, “Bryer used to date Wesker. Think she wants something in that house?” Jill tried. A bad idea was working its way into her head.

Chris looked at her, “Jill?”

“I’m a B and E expert, wasn’t I?” She swallowed, “I have a lockpick.”

“Think there are cameras?” Chris asked her.

“We’re already being watched, aren’t we? I don’t see anybody parked on the street right now. We’ll go out my backdoor and sneak around. Let’s watch them for once.”

He smirked at her, “Let me grab my coat.”

\--

**The dynamic duo**

**Leave me a comment : )**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

Jill felt giddy.

She’d been in law enforcement up until a few weeks ago. This stunt was wholly inappropriate. Maybe that was what was making her giddy. She stuffed her legs into her jeans instead of the oversized pajama pants.

“This, of all things, wasn’t what I expected to light a fire in Valentine’s eyes.” Chris told her.

“Taking advantage of Hector not able to chew me out about it.” She told him back.

“Nah, you’re too good at this shit to be chewed out.” Chris said while she dug in her hall closet for the Maglite.

It made Jill pause from burrowing her arms behind the stack of Martha’s musty towels, “Thanks?”

“That was meant to be a compliment, yes.” As if he’d detected the uncertainty of whether he was making fun of her in her voice.

Jill let herself smirk, hand wrapping around the handle and pulling out the heavy light. She handed it to Chris. Her own lockpick, another gift from Richard long before he’d ended up in prison, pulled from its wooden box and tucked into her back pocket. Jill stuffed her feet into her waders that she kept by the back door. Chris joined at her side and she killed the lights, “Stay still.” She told him.

“What?”

“I just get the feeling sometimes maybe people watch from the woods. Give it a minute with the lights off in case anyone has been seeing if we come out.” She whispered.

“Why are you whispering? We crawled all over this place for bugs a few weeks ago.” They hadn’t found any. But Jill wasn’t convinced.

“Just in case.” She said. She slipped through the first breezeway door silently. Chris’ thicker frame managed to get himself caught on the door.

She rolled her eyes, “Watch it.”

“Do you have a gun?”

“Not on me. Didn’t want to turn _robbery into armed robbery_.” 

A moment of silence between them, “I’m just saying—it’s Wesker’s house…”

Jill swore under her breath. She accidently brushed her chest and shoulder against Chris’ as she attempted to slip past him in the pitch dark of the back of her cabin, “Do you have one?”

“Not on me.” He echoed. She nearly tripped over his foot and he caught her elbows to steady her. A firm squeeze as he sidestepped out of her way and guided her toward the first opened glass door—back to her central kitchen and living space.

“Flashlight?” Jill asked. If they were being watched, she didn’t dare hit the light switch. This whole house was a fishbowl. She’d bought new curtains but too many damn windows. From the glow through the front window curtains, she managed to paw her way to her bedroom. Jill fumbled with her key ring—now she locked her pistol in its case in her bedside drawer each day rather than leaving it in the hall closet. The silhouette in her doorway almost made her jump out of her skin until she realized it was just Chris.

“Scare you?” He asked.

“Yeah, thought maybe Wesker’s ghost came over here.” She joked, “Jesus.”

“I bet the house is emptied.” Chris figured, leaning against the door jamb while she used the flashlight to put a fresh magazine into the base of the gun and tucked it into the back of her jeans. He watched her, a smirk on his face in the dim light, arms folding over his chest.

“What?” Jill asked.

He looked away quickly, shaking his head, “Nothing. Let’s go.”

They paused for a moment again at the back sliding glass door. Jill zipped her jacket up to her chin, “I don’t see anybody. You’re sure Bryer booked out of town?”

“If it were her, she’s in Fredricksburg now.” Chris said. The forest was a dark mass. Nearly impossible to see where her overgrown back lawn edged up to the trees. Breaths puffed against the windows, hoping her eyes would adjust a little more to the blackness outside.

“See anybody?” Jill whispered to him.

“Can’t see shit.”

There were no lights, no movement that she detected once acclimated. Jill slid open the door. She delicately stepped down the old wooden stair, taking a tentative stride toward the dark treeline. Chris was at her side. The gentle _woosh_ of him closing the door behind them. His voice hardly a breath: _“I think we’re alone.”_ Jill only gave a nod.

She led the way, casting a wide arc around her yard, and walking toward the forest. She was taking the long way around. Chris gave her a strange gesture but he followed her without question. They hugged the tree line once they reached it, the cool nighttime air stung her face and ears. This could be the first frost of the season—awfully brisk tonight. She walked them behind the next-door cabin, through the planted row of evergreens between this neighbors house and the next. A better way to reach the road than through her open yard with the streetlight in front of the house.

Careful steps through the drainage ditch dug on the side of the road. Chris taking an awkward stride to keep his running shoes dry as she opted to step through in her rubber boots. Jill glanced back and forth.

About fifty feet to Wesker’s property line. No cars on the street. The cabin next to his already had the windows shuttered for the off season—probably one which wasn’t winterized. That wasn’t uncommon out here in the park to have summer only cabins without central heat or full kitchens.

They stepped calmly across the road, Chris looked behind them and she let her eyes sweep back and forth for movement ahead. Into Wesker’s old lawn. Soggy, overgrown grass like a wet sponge of mud under her boots. A cold gust whipped raindrops from the leaves which landed uncomfortably on her face and neck.

She hugged the tree line again as the side of Wesker’s house bordered a still-wooded lot and led them around the back.

His cabin was designed much like hers. The back breezeway and mudroom with the stupid, bright LED nightlight that he’d always had plugged in. It was still there. Glowing. Through the glow Jill spotted the legs of the kitchen table, _“Guess they didn’t get all of his stuff. Stay here until I get the door open. I’ll motion to you if the house is empty. If I get caught, call Hector and tell him to get a lawyer.”_

_“Hell no, I’m not letting you fall for this.”_

“ _One of us has to stay out of jail. And Claire needs you. I’ll scream if I get grabbed but I doubt anyone is in there.”_ Jill told him. She reached out, fingertips pressing his chest as to motion for him not to follow her, _“I’ll be okay.”_ He looked put off by the plan but she didn’t care. She wasn’t her family’s breadwinner. It boiled down to collateral damage. There was less of that from her ass ending up in a cell.

 _“It’s Umbrella it won’t be a normal jail!”_ Chris hissed.

 _“Do you still want to do this with me?”_ Why were they doing this, again? Maybe she hadn’t slept in so long that idiotic things seemed good.

_“Yes! We should have done this first. Before anyone got in there. But I wasn’t thinking.”_

_“This was kind of impulse.”_ Jill admitted, ” _But I’m glad you’re here. We don’t get caught! I’ll motion if it’s clear.”_

 _“If I whistle, get your ass back here and we run.”_ Chris told her tensely. Jill gave another nod.

She forced her footsteps to be calm across the grass as her heart pounded. _Act natural._ That was the only thing she had going for her. Jill cupped her palm around her eyes. Too much glare. She couldn’t see into the cabin. Next, she went for the handle and tugged.

Locked. She set to work, holding the torsion wrench with her fingertips and pushing the first pick into the slot, fishing it around until she felt the spring of the plug. Another moment of tinkering and Jill was able to twist the mechanism open. She pushed open the screen door and stepped through his breezeway. The laundry machines were left. Clothes neatly hung on a rack above them. Scrubs and collared shirts—Wesker’s typical garb. She wiped her boots as well as she could on the towel left on the floor.

Jill swallowed. The next door was unlocked. A glance back and forth through his kitchen and down the narrow hall to the bedroom. Head poked inside.

Just the made bed. Nothing.

It smelled like stale air and faint cologne. The expensive stuff Wesker always wore which made everything remind her of walking through a Van Maur. It was weird that it still _smelled_ like him in here. Jill crinkled her nose in disgust. _Nice and dead now, asshole._ She traced her footsteps backward, sticking her arm out the door and motioning for Chris to come in after her. He trotted across the yard and joined.

Chris rubbed the back of his hand against his nose, “Eh. Think this guy wore enough cologne?”

Jill shone her Maglite at Wesker’s breakfast bar, “The peas are gone.”

“Peas?”

“Remember he used to grow pea plants?”

Chris made a snorting laugh, “Bred pea plants. Mendelian genetics. The monk who founded modern genetic research.”

“Umbrella’s people love sucking their own cocks. And Wesker thought he was awful smart.” Jill huffed a sigh, continuing her search into the kitchen and uncovering a partial bottle of bourbon in one of the cabinets. She didn’t recognize the brand but it looked expensive.

Lifting the bottle for Chris to see it, he rolled his eyes, “Wesker was a top-shelf-money-spending-idiot.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” That had been somewhat endearing about him not too long ago. How she and Chris once joked around about the Rolex on the late doctor’s wrist was now a distant, painfully naïve memory. _Fucking paid to do illegal experiments and be a doctor on staff to keep their subjects alive. Sicko._

And maybe she was going partially insane, but Jill’s father had taught her well. She turned her body, pulled down the zipper of her coat, and had the bottle tucked into the inner pocket beneath her breast in one quick motion. Zipped up to her chin again.

_Fuck you, Wesker. That’s for Enrico--who you ordered to be shot in cold blood. For all the people in the woods that died. For Richard. For Sully. For Joseph. For Barry’s family who had to be traumatized by all this. For taking mine and Chris’ jobs and turning us into village lepers. I’m gonna drink your Bourbon._ Maybe she was showing the anger on her face. Chris asked her: “You okay?”

Jill shook her head, “Pissed as hell.”

“You steal his bottle?”

“Fuck you, Chris. I’m a cop.” She winked at him.

“A suspended cop.” Chris shot back, “You law abiding citizen, you.”

“Drinks at my place.” Jill stated.

Maybe she should invite him. Have him sleep on the couch. Or sleep wherever he wanted. _You and Hector are taking a break._ She’d see how she felt when she got back to her place. _If you can work up the courage, you mean._

_Do not ask your best friend to hook up with you._

_Drink some bourbon and see where the night takes you._

_You still are planning on marrying Hector, aren’t you?_ An internal debate between her impulsive and rational side while she shone the light over Chris’ shoulder to illuminate the hallway for him. Wesker’s bathroom had been cleared out of its toiletries. His leather sofa set and television room also emptied—Jill figured those were his more valuable pieces of furniture that family members or whatever friends he had left came for.

_Otherwise just left your crap here to rot. Tossed out and used by Umbrella. Hell were you thinking, Wesker?_

His bathroom was still filled with toiletries. A shaving kit on the counter—blades and brushes neatly stacked where he’d left them before heading into Arklay that fateful morning. Then the bedroom. A bookshelf with a full set of encyclopedias—Jill assumed they were gifts from Umbrella. A full volume series about wildlife in the continent of Africa. The same collectors’ set which she knew was sitting on Chief Irons’ shelf as he sat on his ass and ran job application advertisements for the game warden positions they’d yet to entirely refill.

A few paintings had been taken off the walls as nails were left sticking out. His closet remained full of clothes. She got another, stronger whiff on his cologne and it reminded her too much of sitting next to him in his car when he offered her a ride to work.

“This fucking guy. All he does is bathe in cologne and use mouthwash.” Chris was shaking his head. Jaw tight. Wesker had always been a closer friend to Chris than he was to Jill. She reached out and squeezed his arm.

“Think there’s anything else here?”

“Probably cases of Listerine since I think he went through a bottle a day when we were camping.”

“What a weirdo.” Jill said, both letting out breathy laughs, “What a fucking weirdo.”

“At least his breath always smelled nice.”

She made a face at Chris, “He smelled like a Nautica catalogue.”

Chris gave her an amused tap with his fist on her shoulder. After a moment of hesitation they dug through his bedside drawers, “I guess he doesn’t carry condoms.” The bedside tables had been emptied as well (or were never full to begin with).

“He was not bringing anyone home— his personality was about as interesting as a plastic bag.” That was a little mean, maybe, but Jill didn’t care.

“That Zahara thing.” Chris stated, “Do you think they--?”

“Had sex? They dated, didn’t they?” Jill crinkled her nose, “Unless he just liked to look at her feet or she dressed up as his mom or something.”

“Gross.”

“Wesker’s sex life is something I will never grasp or want to.” Jill groaned, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“That was a bust.”

“Not entirely.” She patted the bottle in her coat. They were less cautious on the way home, satisfied that the streets were as empty as they’d left them. The two scampered through Jill’s back door.

_Just ask him. Ask him to sleep over. See what happens._

She went to open her mouth, but Chris beat her to it: “Hey. Are you working tomorrow?”

Damn, maybe he was thinking the same thing. Jill’s heart hammered in her chest, heat spreading across her face, sweat tingling between her breasts: “N-no—”

And then he was the stuttering one, “I-I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. That Giorgio guy sent me plane tickets. A few hours ago. Nobody can find your dad’s Clive O’Brien guy but—he gave me uh. Plane tickets for the morning. Just made the offer before I came over and then I saw Bryer and I got spooked but I don’t think it was her—”

Jill blinked. A bubble of pain spread from her chest to her throat. The anticipating butterflies in her stomach turned to dust and filled her mouth with the bitter taste of disappointment. She feigned a cough to force it out of her voice, “Oh. Oh wow. So tomorrow?”

“Yeah…I was wondering…can you drive my Jeep home from the airport? If you’re not busy. You can barrow it if you want to. It would be good for the engine to keep running and you’d have a car and I trust you more than I trust myself. For the month or two that I’ll be gone. While you move, I was thinking. If you end up moving sooner than the holidays you can drive it to Albany if you want or just leave it parked somewhere in town and I’ll take care of it but I was thinking you might want a car—”

“Yeah, yeah…” Jill wasn’t really listening. Her head was spinning. He was leaving the city. Leaving her side. Leaving tomorrow.

“I hope you’re not upset and if you’re uncomfortable being here alone I don’t want to leave like that. It just happened fast and I wasn’t sure I was going to pull the trigger until right now and I better go home and confirm the boarding passes and let him know I’m coming because that’s not cheap—”

“No…I’m just…I…We’re partners, right? It doesn’t matter what side of the world you’re on.”

“Partners. Always. Of course. You’re my best friend and…I don’t want to abandon you in this.” Chris smiled at her, then his gaze planted back to the floor, nervously, “You’re…okay being here?”

“I’m moving to Albany. I’ll babysit the Jeep like it’s my long lost child until that point which won’t be for a few weeks and maybe you’ll be back by then.”

“Do you think it’s a bad idea—”

“No. Less planning is probably better, right? Less likely to be followed.” The strange balloon of hope about him keeping her company for the evening fizzled out in her chest more painfully than it should have, “I guess you better go home and pack up. Let me know what time you want to leave. I’ll be ready.” Jill assured him.

Chris pressed his lips together and nodded, “You’re really great, you know that?”

Jill felt her emotions swell, threatening to turn into a wave and crash over her. _Don’t be weird about it!_ “Thanks.” She breathed, “See you tomorrow, then?”

He sidestepped to her front door, “Yeah.” Jill breathed, hardly able to get sound out of her mouth. Chris smiled and backed out the door.

She heard the Jeep start. Headlights illuminated through her curtains and then the sound of tires on gravel. She stood in stunned silence, knees locked, top of the bourbon bottle poking painfully into her breast from the way she hugged it against her body.

 _He’s out saving the world and you’re stealing bourbon, you piece of shit._ She heaved deep breaths— _nose in, mouth out, nose in, mouth out. Ground yourself._ The ache from locking her knees, the pain of the bottle digging into her soft skin. The curtains. The table.

_Home. Home. Safe._

_Abandoned._ That was selfish. She didn’t need to feel this way. Jill staggered to the bar chair and set the bottle down before letting herself collapse. Face buried in her hands. Her chest was on fire. Gasping breaths echoed in her kitchen around her.

_Do not fucking cry over this, what the hell is wrong with you?_

\--

**From 1-10 how mad is Claire gonna be? Please leave me a comment!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

“You _didn’t tell Claire?”_ Jill hissed at Chris as he drove them to the airport.

“I told her that I was doing an anti-technology experiment and would have my phone off for a month—”

“You threw your phone down the sewer!?” Jill half shouted, “How are you going to reach anyone if this goes tits up?”

“It’s a GPS, I have to get rid of it if I’m going anywhere. We’re being watched!” Chris told her, “That’s why I told Claire to contact you if there’s any emergency.”

“She’s not an idiot, Chris.” Jill pressed her face into her palm, “She’s going to get suspicious. What am I supposed to tell her?”

“That I’m participating in an anti-technology study with the university. She’ll be fine.” He shrugged.

“Seriously?” Jill rolled her eyes so hard she felt like she was going to roll them back into her head, “She’s going to knock down my door if she gets weirded out by this. She’s definitely the type.”

“I know…but…look out for her…if that happens?”

“Of course.” Jill nodded, “If she shows up, or if she gets upset. I’ll try my best to calm her down.” That wasn’t a lie. She’d try her best. But Chris wasn’t exactly putting either of them in a good position with this cover story of all things, “You’re sure about this Giorgio?” Jill had spoken to him over the phone with Chris at her side a few times after they told him the story of the initial Arklay Mansion Incident, but that felt long ago now with everything in the past weeks. The forest thinned into the first traffic light at Fredricksburg.

Jill swallowed. Chris headed for the terminal, “Long flight, huh?”

He nodded, “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll have to catch up with Brad. We’ll look out for each other.” She muttered, “Don’t worry. You’re the one going overseas.” Chris parked in front of the terminal, “Guess this is it? Showtime?” Jill forced herself to smile.

Chris nodded. They both opened the doors. Looking at each other for a moment before he yanked his suitcase out of the back of the Jeep and handed the keys to Jill, “I’ll find a way to contact you.”

“Please. Let me know you’re okay. When you can.” Her heart pounded.

Chris looked at her, opening his mouth for a moment like he wanted to say more. Jill felt like there was more to say, but the words kept leaving her as well. Out of habit she reached and made sure her hair was properly parted, keys to the Jeep cold and pressing into her palm.

“I will.” He said, “Be safe.”

“You too.” She stated. And he looked at her again, then over his shoulder and waved as he walked into the terminal. There was a lot to say to him but her voice betrayed her. Stuck in her throat.

That she had an awkward crush on him. That she wanted to know how long they planned on going after Umbrella together. Were they friends? More than friends? Business partners? There was really no way they could be anything more than partners with everything, but Jill wanted an answer— _if this was different. If I wasn’t going to be engaged again. If we win this battle against Umbrella. Then what? Would you go on a date with me?_

But none of that was fair to Hector or Chris. Hector was the healthy choice. The one her mom liked and who’d done so much to support her financially, going as far as allowing her to live in his family’s home when she’d made this foray into the wilderness of Raccoon Village.

_Lack of sleep and trauma. Trauma makes you think you have real feelings for people._ That was what the shrink said. She needed to do soul searching on her own. Owed Hector another chance once she got moved back to Albany. She stepped up into the Jeep and looked at the windows into the airport. Chris was long gone from view. Jill twisted the key and scooted the seat forward. She looked over her left shoulder, popped on the turn signal, and pulled off.

She white knuckled her way home. It was Chris’ car and the fact that it was barrowed made her anxious to drive it for fear of doing something to scoff it up. She parked in the cabin driveway— _time to buy some boxes from the hardware store and hit the post office_.

The first three mornings when Jill emerged from her bedroom, she always startled when she saw it out the front window—wondering why Chris was stopping in on her. Then she got used to the fact that the Jeep was her ward for the time being.

Three mornings became three weeks. One email from a burner account that he’d safely landed and then silence from Chris. Claire, other than the initial fit about why Chris would do something so stupid to take himself out of contact, seemed to have settled into the idea that he was doing a research study and Jill was around for her to call in the evenings if she got lonely. Jill soaked up every moment of Claire telling about her classes and the tattoos she worked on—

Because Jill was _fucking lonely_ herself _._ Raccoon Village became too small. Different cars sat on her street and Jill knew they watched her. It was a dead end and it wasn’t hard to spot her drive or walk out. They sat there while she was powerless, their presence continuously taunting. As the outdoor vacationers dwindled in town the restaurant’s regulars were all that were left. People who knew she was once a game warden and had been suspended after several died in a catastrophe out in the woods. The rumor mill churned. She was the town freak show.

Getting to Albany sooner looked better and better. Moving in with Julie, not so much, but Jill would just have to find somewhere cheap to rent.

The dreams haunted her.

_The lab with the tubes with the humanoids in them._

_Waking up laying on a table, finding herself bound and unable to move, unable to scream until it finally rattled from her lungs and startled herself awake._

_Standing in the shower, looking down at her body to see large, granular lumps covering her pale flesh._

Jill was tired.

“Are you eating?” Brad asked her, he came to the restaurant sometimes. He worked for the hospital—a rescue pilot who split his time between Raccoon Village and Fredricksburg. He’d been the one to fly them away from certain death in the woods moments before the self-destruct on the hellish hidden facility went off.

“Huh?” Jill leaned against the counter behind the register, shifting her weight back and forth as her legs got tired from standing on the tile.

“You’ve gotten thin.”

“Don’t comment on a woman’s weight.” She muttered.

“ _You’re thin.”_ He was a little more forceful, maybe it was his medical training, but Jill never cared to see a doctor again after seeing what she did in Arklay, “I’m sorry. I know it’s taking its toll. You look tired as hell, Jill.”

“I’ll manage.”

“Hey. I know you’re headed out. A few more weeks and your future is looking bright. I can sense it.”

She punched the numbers into the register and gave him his change, pouring a cup of coffee for him and handing it over the counter. Cold rain fell in buckets outside. Nothing felt bright: “Yeah?”

“Something a little weird happened, though.” Brad cleared his throat, “This morning at the hospital. Flew a patient who had pretty bad cancer. Lots of tumors on his skin. He lived out in the park in a hunting cabin. I read your original report before you…or ‘they’… retracted it—”

Jill swallowed, her hands trembled, “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Brad’s soft brown eyes flicked her up and down, “Maybe you need to face this thing.”

“I’m working on it.” It was sharper words than she intended. If she could be in Europe she would be. At Chris’ side. Stupid passport left her hobbled here. She inhaled through her teeth. Quivers shot from her knees to her elbows, panicked tears welling in her eyes. _Calm the fuck down._

“I’m going to keep an eye on it. But I wanted you to know. Things have been a little weird in town.”

“Weird how?” Jill demanded.

“Just weird. Lots of people in the hospital. Especially for off season. I’ll text you if anything gets super weird.”

“Thanks.” It was too late to go to the post office or head into town when her shift ended. Jill didn’t think she had the energy, anyway.

She retrieved her pistol from her bedside table. Body shivered violently. Panic welling inside of her to the point she wasn’t sure she wanted to try and stand up. Handle of the gun clenched in her hand, Jill rocked herself back and forth, sitting on the loveseat where she usually found herself parked in the evenings. _Patient with tumors. Patient with tumors. You’re losing your fucking mind. You need to move to Albany. Now. Take the Jeep and go. Just bug the fuck out. The first moment that weird car isn’t parked there just head the fuck out of town and don’t look back._

No dice tonight, though. It seemed the black sedan had already settled in for the duration.

A knock on her door nearly sent Jill out of her skin with panic. A scramble to the peep hole, pistol ready at her side. Just a pizza delivery kid knocked on her door. Confused, Jill yanked it open, “I think you have the wrong house.” She said. Her voice sounded like she’d been screaming all night at a concert.

“Ms. Valentine?” The kid asked. She tilted her head sideways, suspicious as to why he knew her name. Maybe it showed on her face because he stuttered out an explanation: “Uh…I think your friend sent it. He said he was a pilot—”

“Oh.” Her guard lowered, pistol still behind her back. Jill carefully took the box, “I’ll get you a tip.” She’d dumped her own pile of crinkled singles on the table. Careful to walk backwards so he didn’t see her gun, she grabbed a couple and handed them to the boy.

The same shop in town which Chris and she used to get pizza from. Her favorite with the sausage and pepperoni.

**Take care of yourself. The guys at the R.P.D. and I sent you this.**

**\--Brad**

The smell hit her first and she was suddenly unbearably hungry. _When was the last time she’d eaten?_ Jill swallowed. That was bad. She needed to get her head on straight again.

Two pieces nearly inhaled and feeling considerably better both mentally and physically with food in her belly, Jill leaned backward on her kitchen chair.

Her phone rang. Claire. Typical nighttime call after she was out of classes and finished most of her work for the day.

“Hello?”

_“Jill. I’m freaking out! I’m really over it!”_

 _Uh-oh._ “Are…you okay?”

_“No. I’m not okay. I’m…maybe I’m being a bitch here but what is going on with my brother?”_

The last few weeks talking to Claire they’d managed to avoid most of this conversation. Jill supposed her luck wasn’t going to hold forever, “It’s that…research study thing—”

_“But…have you seen him? Have you actually put your eyeballs on him?”_ Claire demanded, _“I’m not trying to shoot the messenger or anything here, but I’m getting kind of freaked out and…and I think I’m going to have to come into the city if you haven’t seen him.”_

“I haven’t seen him but he told me he was okay.” That wasn’t entirely a lie. Claire getting fired up was ratcheting Jill’s anxiety to where it was before she ate the food. A cold chill washed through her, full of worry about how the hell she’d explain any of this to Claire if she showed up.

_“Jill…this is really weird. Is he like…locked in a padded room with no screens or something? I’m really worried—”_

“It’ll be okay.” Jill’s own voice was tense.

_“And you sound really upset half the time I talk to you so I’m worried about you too and I know there was a big case or something really went down hard over the summer and I should have visited—”_ Claire cut herself off, _“I’m coming. I’m leaving in the morning. I’ve decided. I have the bike and the weather is nice enough to take it on a road trip—”_

“Claire…it’s really probably not a good time. I know the study has him locked in.”

_“The month is up in a day. He’ll be set free when I get there.”_

It had already been a month? Shit she’d lost track of time, “Claire…”

_“I have his address—”_

“My address. Come to my address.”

_“What?!”_

“Chris will still be in the study. He won’t be done this weekend. Not from what I know. My address is Sixteen Foxtail Lane. I’m the light blue cabin. If you come to town come here but…really, you’re not going to see him. He won’t be available.”

_“You’re sketching me the fuck out, Jill!”_

“I’m…I’m sorry.” Jill swallowed. She wasn’t sure what to say, “I…I’m worried too I haven’t seen him either I just know he’s not available—”

A long pause: _“You’re like him. Worried someone is listening on the phone.”_ Claire’s voice got low. A moment of pause again, _“Sixteen Foxtail, huh?”_ The sound of Claire scribbling that down on a piece of paper, _“I’m going to have to talk to you in person. You both have been too weird—”_

“Claire…I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’m in the process of moving right now and there are weird things happening in this town—”

_“What? You’re moving? What about Chris?”_

“He’s okay. Last I heard he’s okay—”

_“Where is he? Is he in the city?”_

Jill went silent, brain spinning, face pressed into her hand.

_“Jilly? Are you okay?”_ Claire sounded scared, and desperate, and for some reason being called ‘Jilly’ made tears spill from her eyes and roll down her face, dripping to the surface of the table. She struggled to clear her voice.

“I can’t…Claire…if you come, you come straight here, you understand? But don’t come. You can meet me in Albany if you want—”

_“Oh, Jill. I’m coming. No. No more of whatever this is. I need to check on you guys.”_

“Claire—” But there was a strange noise on the other end. _Fucking Arklay._ With the mountains and how remote town was, reception was always spotty at best. Jill redialed. Didn’t work.

Her phone was roaming. _Sonofa—_ She shot Claire a text message instead, hoping that she would receive it. _I guess she’s coming._ And Jill would have to wait for the reception to decide to work again. The cell tower in town was garbage.

Jill pulled out her stash of freshly purchased cardboard boxes. The summer clothes she no longer needed quickly filled one. Then the towels she owned. There were plenty of towels from Martha that she’d leave here and that she and Claire could use in the meantime.

Then a few of her books and knick-knacks. Jill had three freshly packed boxes to tape up and ship out in the morning. She texted her mother too, letting her know that she’d be back to Albany soon and more packages were being sent. Jill popped the top of the stolen bourbon, took a long swig, and nearly gagged as the burning cleared her sinuses.

She was more of a beer drinker.

_Ship some shit in the morning. Then figure out what the hell to do with Claire._

_\--_

_Thanks for reading! Leave me a review : )_


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks for all the kudos and hits!**

**Please leave me a comment so I know if you’re enjoying this! As I’ve said before I have these novels written through the RE5 timeline, but they’re something I’ve always grappled with turning into an original story.**

**Love it? Hate it? Drop me a comment! : )**

**In which shit hits the fan**

**Chapter 9:**

Jill didn’t sleep that night. Her heart pounded in her ears, tingles like electricity through her body. Sweat slicked between her breasts, making her oversized sleeping t-shirt tangle around her uncomfortably.

She quivered and groaned into the pillow, desperately breathing the cool air of the cabin. Own hands feeling over the back of her neck, satisfied that no virus-induced tumors had set into her body. Jill rolled onto her back and stared at her ceiling.

Just the smooth white sheetrock. The dusty, outdated light fixture—an awful ornamented thing which hardly worked and was several decades out of place. Maybe Hector and his family would update this place when she left. _Or sell it._

She rolled on her side, checking her phone again. The messages still failed to send as she had no reception. It was getting weird now. _Just what you needed. Having to spend money to get a new phone._ It hadn’t been right since she’d soaked it rolling into a creek the night of the incident. _Finally kicked the bucket._

Jill absentmindedly tried to read fitness forums as she enjoyed to pass the time and found her modem had lost power as well. No internet—that was typical out here too. She’d gotten the cheapest local provider she could find, and on nights like these, she got what she paid (or didn’t) for.

Somehow she managed to fall into a restless sleep until it was light outside, and time that she could get to her phone provider and the post office to mail the stupid packages. Jill went for her phone company first. The line was long.

Apparently, their internet service had died for more people than her during the night and standing in a pile of angry people wasn’t what her nerves needed. She’d come back later.

To the post office, next.

“Have you heard about the rabies?” The woman asked her, “You were that warden, weren’t you?”

“I’m not with the wardens anymore.” Jill flipped the hood of her sweatshirt up on her head at the mention of her old life, as if it would shield her from the judgement around her, tapping her credit card impatiently as she waited for the woman to weigh out her boxes and manually punch in her mother’s address.

“But you’ve heard, haven’t you? The people who got rabies out in the woods. They say one of the doctors has it too—”

“Yeah! That weird rabies! My dog got it after eating a chipmunk and he’s up to date on his shots.” A woman behind her in line butted in, “On the radio this morning they’re saying it’s a state of emergency for the village. My dog ate that chipmunk and I rushed him to the vet. They found out he had cancer so we put him down two days ago but he was showing rabies symptoms too.”

That was enough to make Jill stop tapping her card, “What?” She asked the woman behind her, “Cancer?”

“Dogs get cancer like people do.”

 _No shit._ But Jill managed to not say that aloud.

The woman shrugged, “I’ll miss him, but we actually noticed a lump on his skin that morning that we hadn’t seen before. Vet said it was really aggressive and it was the only thing we could do at that point.”

Jill’s mouth was dry, “What’s the state of emergency?”

“Look on your phone—”

“It’s dead. I have a phone from that Raccoon Mobile place with the virgin plans—” Jill started but was cut off again.

“No, the cell tower malfunctioned last night. Almost nobody’s phones are working.” Another man from the line cut in on her.

Jill swallowed, “What’s the state of emergency, why?” She asked a little more forcefully, hardly paying attention when the clerk snatched the card from her hand.

“There’s a lot of animals with rabies. A few people got it. Someone bit a doctor yesterday night because they were rabid. Probably an out of town tourist who tried to hold a raccoon again! They want people to stay out of the park until the wardens get it under control.” The man explained to her as if it were the most normal thing on the planet.

_These people don’t know what you know._

“What?” Jill dropped her wallet as she absentmindedly missed her pocket and scrambled to pick it up. She turned on her heels, heart hammering in her ears. Her world spun around her. Heat flushed across her face and knees trembled. She dropped her wallet a second time.

“You okay, lady?”

“I’m getting out of town—”

“Do you want your receipt?!” The woman at the desk yelled after her.

“I suggest you do the same!” Jill shouted over her shoulder. She took the steps down from the post office two at a time, nearly dropping the car keys and her wallet again she struggled with the door to the Jeep. Jill’s quivering legs struggled up the step into the seat. She went to text Claire, to warn her that there was an issue in town and she was leaving for Albany.

But that didn’t work. Because her phone was dead. And there were now cop cars at the Raccoon Mobile storefront which hosted an increasingly angry looking mob of people. Jill spun the tires on the gravel road leading to her cabin.

She had a bag with her essentials, for this exact situation, and she tossed that by the door first. Between swearing, grabbing armfuls of clothes to stuff into her suitcase, and trying to dial out to Claire, she worked herself up into a sweat. The ancient emergency radio which Hector’s family had kept in the closet had dead batteries, and of course it only took an obscure type which Jill didn’t have any of. She dragged her suitcase to the Jeep, and then threw in her bugout bag. Door carefully locked so Hector’s family could return to it when whatever this was passed. Jill never wanted to see Arklay or the village again. _Bye, cabin._ There was a payphone at the gas station on the way out of town. She had to call Claire and leave her a voicemail.

_Landline. Umbrella blocked the signals at their lab too. You need a landline. That worked last time._

Was she forgetting something? _Probably._ Overreacting? Jill wasn’t sure. A car swerving into her driveway behind her nearly jumped Jill out of her skin. A thirty-something white man with a thin face and mousy brown hair. Brad.

Jill jumped out of the driver seat, “We gotta get out of here.” He said, “The hospital—it’s full of patients with that weird cancer. They’re talking about closing the roads into the city on the news.”

“How? How did this happen?”

“Don’t know. But it’s that virus from your report. Guarantee it.”

At the lab it had gotten into the water supply. Jill wondered if that was possible on a larger scale. If she was going to now die because she was running low on bottled water and the distinct dryness of thirst burned into her throat. “I’ll follow you.” Jill told him, “Let’s get the hell out of town. I need to stop at the C-store and use the payphone.”

“The cell tower is down.”

“Landline. That’s how we called you to rescue us from Arklay. Chris’ sister is trying to come to town. I have to get in touch with her and stop her!” Jill shouted to him.

“They’ll be closing the roads. She won’t be able to get through!” Jill wasn’t so sure how that was possible but she took it at face value. _Got out of town just in time, Chris._ The Jeep was low on gas, she realized when she twisted the key. A quarter of a tank but she’d need more with how desolate the drive out of the village was in either direction. _Fuck. Fuck this._

 _Well, stop and use the payphone anyway._ Jill followed Brad down her gravel road. Another few turns before they reached a gridlock of traffic on Main Street. Apparently, word had gotten out—Brad wasn’t the only one with information about the city being shut down. Jill kept one had on the steering wheel, inching along behind Brad’s sedan in the traffic. _Mass exodus?_ This wasn’t good. If people were infected with T-Virus it would rapidly spread between them in this mess, especially if someone broke with the violent symptoms.

The T- Virus was the biological weapon she and Chris narrowly escaped in the woods. A retrovirus which embedded quickly into the DNA of its victims and caused massive cell reproduction, it had been being studied apparently to create partially human creatures for combat. Grotesque, tortured monsters which had spent their days suffering in Umbrella’s captivity, being created with the sole purpose of destroying human life. More commonly, however, the virus’ effects caused victims to quickly succumb to high fever and systemic cancer. After death was when things got stranger—often the victims would rise again. No longer alive except for the virus causing nerves in their brains and limbs to fire and steering them to bite into the flesh of living creatures to spread infection. Zombies. Her eyes flicked around the crowd. No one looked too sick. Not yet, at least.

She reached to the passenger seat, struggling with one hand to open the latch on the case to her pistol. Tires rolled to a stop behind Brad.

 _This line isn’t moving._ There were the distinct flashing lights of emergency vehicles up ahead, on the incline of where Main Street turned to Raccoon Pass and snaked over the mountain range to Fredricksburg. She wasn’t sure, but she was fairly certain she saw concrete barriers dropped on the road in front of them. _I don’t think we’re getting out of here._

While parked in the jamb of beeping vehicles, Jill was able to press a clip into her pistol, and tuck it carefully inside the pocket in the panel of her coat. She arranged a spare jacket she’d tossed into the car to cover the case. _Nobody needs to know you’re armed. This is already getting tense._ The dryness in her throat grew painful. Probably mostly from nerves.

Jill pulled the Jeep to a parallel parking spot on the side of the road and jumped out. Brad, still stuck in the traffic jam, swore at her from the window. “Fuck you doing?”

Jill kept walking, carefully between cars. A unformed officer screamed at her to stay back from the sidewalk. He and another were trying to restrain a thrashing, screaming suspect. Even from the distance Jill could see the lumps on the man’s skin.

 _Virus. He’s either mutating or he’ll be a zombie._ The mechanics were mostly lost on her but she’d seen the outcomes of both those options first hand. Neither were pretty.

_This isn’t happening._

She didn’t know what compelled her to keep walking but adrenaline had taken over her body. _Instinct._ Something compelled Jill forward. She needed to reach that barricade. If there wasn’t a way through there had to be another way out of the city for her and Brad.

Jill kept her hands visible as she walked down the sidewalk, closer and closer to the flashing lights. There was already a gathering crowd. Jill looked over her shoulder. A woman carrying a toddler on her hip and dragging another child along by his hand. Her stomach churned.

 _I told you, Irons. I told you this would happen. You made me turn in the badge and kept taking Umbrella’s coverup paychecks._ Jill made it to the back of the crowd, and slipped her slender frame between people to see the men guarding the road. Dark uniforms, unmarked, wearing dark glasses and armored vests. They were carrying assault rifles. _Jesus. Mercenaries? Who the fuck are these guys?_ It wasn’t the National Guard, wasn’t S.W.A.T. No United States flags or badges that she could see. People were murmuring about that same thing. The unrest churned around her. Most people in Raccoon hunted in some form. She wouldn’t be surprised if half these citizens were armed and it made her nervous. One wrong move and bodies would be hitting the ground long before the virus touched them. Jill swallowed, “What’s going on!?” She tried to shout above the noise. Another armored vehicle pulled up to the barricade, beyond the concrete, effectively blocking the road. The man closest to her didn’t hear her. _What is he, twelve?_ Eighteen, certainly, but he sure didn’t look it. “HEY!” She shouted, waving to get his attention, “What’s going on!?”

“Need to go home, ma’am. There’s an emergency in town. Radiation leak from the power station!”

There wasn’t a nuclear facility in Raccoon Villiage. It was a joke of a small town. There was hardly a supermarket and chain restaurants didn’t exist within the city limits. _One spark. One spark and this crowd is going to go off. This is too tense._

Jill squinted at them, “A what? Shouldn’t we leave then?”

The man tightened his grip on the assault rifle. A few others in the crowd were growing heated, two men violently shoving each other for one apparently perceiving the other was standing too close. There was another man, one of the mercenaries, closer to her age, shaggy dark hair and a handsome olive-skinned face. He gave her a nod, “’Fraid so. Safest thing to do is to go home now, ma’am. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

 _You seem a little too polite to be doing whatever this job is._ Jill found him irritating. “With radiation? Be irradiated in my house!?” She couldn’t help herself from making quotation marks with her fingers.

“New facility in town being constructed!” The younger one said, “Go home.” He motioned with his rifle.

Someone screamed behind her. A man had collapsed to the ground. He grabbed his chest, body convulsing while Jill saw his eyes turn lifeless. Body still twitching. Another person staggered toward her. Silver-eyed and moaning painfully.

Jill swallowed, she stepped backward, “Watch o--!” She shouted but it was too late. The infected person pounced on one of the bystanders, teeth tearing into the man’s shoulder while he screamed. That was the spark.

People ran. They screamed. There were gunshots. The display of the undead, infected creature had sent the crowd into a running mass. People sprinted between the cars. Another zombie had jumped onto the hood of someone vehicle. The driver stepped out with a baseball bat.

_Fucking hell._ She forced her eyes away.

Jill’s eyes locked with the polite soldier’s once more. Self-preservation at this point meant getting out of the crowd. Even if that mean retreating into town. Jill tucked tail and ran. Brad was still in his damn car. She pounded on his window, “Out! Off the street! Move!” The orders tearing from her throat, “I have the Wrangler! We’re getting off the street!” He was hesitant to open the door, but Jill immediately seized the moment to grab him.

She had him by the sleeve and dragged him toward Chris’ car. He struggled into the passenger seat while she twisted the key so hard she almost choked it, “What are they saying?” Brad demanded.

“There are infected people up there!” Jill twisted the key like a normal person and managed to start the engine.

“What are they saying? No shit!” Brad asked again, gripping the handle on the dashboard.

“That it’s radiation.” Jill spat. She didn’t know where she was, not fully. Somewhere in the Wrangler. Her brain traveled between alertness and the fuzziness of a nightmare. If felt like the world was moving slow. She pinched her arm, hard, hoping she would wake and realizing she wasn’t actually sleeping. Jill popped the clutch down to the four-wheel drive option, cringed when she looked at the gas gauge, and spun the wheel as hard as she could.

“It’s what!? That’s ridiculous!” Brad cried.

She stomped the gas, the tries groaned over the edge of the curb, the vehicle bouncing up onto the sidewalk. She went slow through the alley, laying on the horn and popping out in another residential street. “I need to get to the other side of Main. To get home.” She said.

“Home? What are you going to do there?”

“I need gas.”

“Do you have gas cans?” Brad asked her.

Jill shook her head, “I have to think. There’s got to be a way out of here. There has to be a fuel station. There’s a trail through the woods. Chris took me camping. I have to remember where the trailhead is. This thing can off road. It’s a four-wheel drive.” Jill was talking fast, not looking at Brad. He was talking but she couldn’t hear him.

Something about radiation sickness and sheltering in place and seeing how the situation had shaken out by the next day.

Jill couldn’t deal with it, “You can’t cross Main.” He told her. Firmly. Hand on her elbow. Jill glowered at him.

“Why?”

“Look at it!” It was worse than when she’d pulled off the street. A mob of people and gridlocked cars. Abandoned vehicles were going to be a better barrier than whatever one those clowns built out of concrete, “What about the highway!?”

“I’m sure that’s worse than Raccoon Pass.” Jill swallowed, “Look up there.” More flashing lights, distant the other direction on Main, “It’s barricaded. The virus is here. They don’t want it out.”

The Jeep idled. She had her foot stomped on the break, catching her breath from fear more than exertion, “What do we do?” Brad asked her.

Jill already had most of her plan formulated. The answer was simple: “We find a place to get gas. And we head into the park and try to find that trail head. With the blocked roads they won’t let Claire in. So we probably don’t have to worry about her.”

As her heart settled past the initial shock, she realized how frightened Brad was beside her. He was sweaty—she could smell the grimy, sour stink of fear oozing from his pores, “Brad?” Jill did her best to soften her voice. He looked at her and gave a nod that he was listening, “Relax. You know how to shoot a gun?”

He gave another nod.

\--

**Thanks for reading! Please comment! I hope you guys are enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks so much to my readers, as always <3 **

**I may or may not have a pretty intense PWOP smutfic for Jill/Claire in the works that’s totally separate from this. So if you’re interested….let me know.**

**Chapter 10:**

_Fuck me._ Being done with this situation was an understatement. _Understatement of the fucking year. Fuck you, Chris. Fuck you, Jill._ A storm brewed over the mountains and as Claire felt the cold wind whipping, she knew that her bike probably didn’t have enough fuel to make it into the village.

The air was heavy with moisture. A fresh, leafy smell of inbound rain carried on each gust.

It had been a long time since she’d been to Raccoon—years. When Chris first moved there after he finished his four years in the Air Force. They’d been separated by foster care for a long time. Coming into town was one of her favorite memories. Re-connecting with her brother to help him move into his new apartment in Raccoon Village. Her foster family had allowed her to do so, and it was when Claire started to feel at home with the thought that she and Chris were always going to be a team. Things were looking up for the remaining Redfields.

Now it was different. She was fine on her own, sure. Had her art classes and her own start up business which she’d come about accidently but now served her well.

Plenty of men wanted to buy used articles of clothing from pretty girls on the internet. If you had art skills and built yourself a pretty website, it turned out you could be rather successful at such an endeavor. That was how she’d bought the Harley.

But now Chris was being an idiot. Who the fuck signed up for an anti-technology study where he had his own ass cut off from the outside world for weeks? And why had Jill become a complete nervous weirdo?

Claire was determined to get to the bottom of this mystery.

After she fueled up her bike, of course. _Fuuuck._ Raccoon was stupidly remote. She should have had the foresight to stop at the last station she’d seen but she was trying to beat the stupid storm and it looked like she might not be so successful at that. Deep charcoal colored clouds gathered around the mountains. Claire opted for the highway into town, as to avoid the winding route through the park, but it seemed even here the road was deserted.

_Where is everyone?_ Must have been an off time. Raccoon Village certainly wasn’t a town with much happening. Claire kept her eyes ahead on the road. _Another thirty minutes or so and you’ll be there._

The raindrops started to fall, heavy drips that hit the face shield of her helmet and then she felt soaking into the leather of her jacket. Another few minutes and she was soaked. A distant florescent light which beckoned like an oasis: UNLEADED FULL SERVICE.

At very least it was a few minutes out of the rain. Hopefully, Jill was home and didn’t mind her showing up soggy. Claire hadn’t been able to reach her all day, which certainly ratchetted up the weird meter.

She pulled out her phone, going to text her friend from school as promised that she’d almost made it into the Village but found that she had no reception. _Raccoon. Fucking. Village._ That was normal in these woods. Chris bitched about it a lot.

Or used to bitch about it. Before he decided to shut off his technology like a fucking idiot for a month. Claire killed the engine to her bike, parked in front of the pump and looked around. Shit, she hated riding in the rain. Especially on these roads without any help for miles. Full service. There should have been a clerk somewhere. The rain fell in sheets now.

_Might have to wait it out until it lightens up._

Claire was thankful to be under the canopy. She shivered.

She sniffled and looked at the vacant lot across the street, tall grasses which edged the road whipping in the wind as the sky darkened with the rain. A cop car was parked on the side of the gas station. A C-store. She realized the door to the cruiser was left open.

_What?_ Claire threw her thigh over the seat of the bike, stretching for the first time in hours. It felt good to shake movement back into her limbs. A cold chill from the wind and her rain-soaked jeans. She set the helmet down on the seat and shook some of the drips out of her ponytail.

_Where is everybody?_ “Hello?” Claire called out. The driving sound of the rain. No wonder they hadn’t noticed her. Probably didn’t want to walk outside. She could hardly blame whoever was working for that. The cop car with the open door threw her, though. Claire chewed her lip. She had her phone in her hand.

Something felt off. She considered jumping on her bike and continuing down the highway, but she didn’t know how much further her tank was going to get her. Claire minded her steps toward the C-store, throwing a glance over her shoulder out of habit.

Maybe it was the rain. Or the abandoned car. Or lack of people. It was all creepy. No movement. “Hello!?” She called, the store was dark inside. A rack of snacks had been knocked over. Crinkly, smashed bags of fried chips scattered across the floor. Had there been a robbery?

Claire tossed a look over her shoulder again. Nobody behind her. She startled at the sight inside: a man lay on the floor. His gasping breaths echoed around them as the rain lulled. A police officer, in uniform. He clutched a heavily bleeding wound in his neck. Blood wet down the light blue of his shirt, soaking the sleeve and half his chest.

His arms were scabbed and lumpy with a rash, frightened blue eyes looked up at her and Claire nearly staggered backwards. She pulled her phone out, scrambling to dial nine-one-one: “I-I’m calling help—” and realizing again she had no signal. It wouldn’t even work on roam. 

The man made a terrible gurgling noise. _Blood diseases, don’t touch blood of a stranger._ Claire had taken the one whole first aid class that she’d been offered on campus. That tip stuck with her. She crouched beside him, “Hi, my name is Claire. It’s going to be okay. I’m going to call for help.” His elbow burned hot to the touch. His eyes were distant now, as if staring at something behind her while he gurgled through each gasp.

_He’s going into shock._ Claire wanted to take his pulse but his neck and hands were so covered in blood she hesitated to do so. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ It sounded like someone was shuffling around in the back room, behind the milk jugs in the refrigerated shelves.

Was it the person who injured the cop? She swallowed heavily. He made a grunt and slumped to the side, “SIR?” Claire shouted, she grabbed his shoulder and shook him. His hand fell away from his neck, revealing the deep gash in his flesh, blood streaming onto the white linoleum flooring.

_Holy fuck! He needs an ambulance. He’s dying._ Claire had the desperate urge to pee and forced herself to stand up straight. Her shout seemingly alerted whoever was behind the cooler—staggering back there like a drunk.

_Some idiot is drugged out and I’m about to get my throat cut._ That was enough of this. She’d take her chances running out of gas on the highway. Drive up a ways and see if she could get reception and cry on Jill and Chris’ shoulders about this whole experience when she got there. Claire spun and bolted. Another shadow rushed the door, the distinct shine of a pistol drawn.

He kicked the door. Claire instinctively squealed and held her hands up.

“Get down!” He shouted at her. She dropped to her knees. Two nearly deafening shots fired over her head. The thud of a body collapsing behind her. Claire looked over her shoulder.

Another man, one with tattered clothes and a bloody face, “You shot him!” She hissed, “Oh…oh god!”

The man with the gun was tall, lithe. He offered his hand. When Claire didn’t take it he seized her wrist and hauled her to her feet. A strike of fear through her. Her first instinct was to twist wildly and it worked—he let go, “Who the fuck are you?” She growled.

“My name’s Leon Kennedy. I’m a cop!” A quivering hand showed her a badge, pistol remained trained on the body on the ground. He wasn’t dressed in uniform but it looked like him in the photo in the little booklet with the badge. All bright eyed and smiley. A stark difference from the wild-eyed and waterlogged version she was faced with.

“Your friend’s hurt!” Claire kept her hands up, motioning with her head..

“It’s okay.” Leon’s voice was softer, “I won’t hurt you.” She and Leon stepped over the fallen racks, to the man who was slumped on the floor. Leon crouched beside him. She watched him feel for breathing with his palm, “Nothing.” Leon sighed.

“Oh my god.”

“We need to get into town. Can you get reception?”

“No…What?” She squinted in the darkness at him.

“Come on.”

Claire felt her mouth hanging open, “We need to call an ambulance!” She kept her feet planted. Her hands quivered from the adrenaline, “You just shot that guy.”

“Not human. Some kind of disease. There were a few like that walking around in the parking lot. Tried to bite me.” Leon looked about as horrified as she felt.

_He’s fucking crazy._ Yet for some reason her legs were following him, back out the door of the trashed little store. Another person was crawling on the ground, around the corner of the building. He made terrible moans of pain. Claire’s stomach lurched when she saw the open gash in his abdomen. As she got closer she saw that he was partially disemboweled, tendrils of intestine dragging behind him while he crawled, skin covered in the same strange lumps. His eyes were grey, mouth open, he reached for her.

Claire stepped back. Despite his injuries he still lunged, teeth snapping inches from her shin, “Oh god!” She scampered backwards, “How is he alive!?”

“Something’s wrong with these people!” Leon looked like he wanted to make a grab for her arm again but stopped himself, “Come on!”

“Is this your cruiser?” Claire asked, hugging herself. The man Leon shot was back on his feet, staggering out the door. _What fresh hell is this?_

“I’m off duty.” Leon shook his head, “Get in!”

She didn’t need to be told twice. Claire jumped into the passenger seat and Leon stomped on the gas, “What was that?” She felt like she’d just been running, chest tight and heart hammering against her ribs, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know—”

“You’re with Raccoon Police Department?”

“Quite a first day.” Leon set his teeth. The rain hammered the windshield, he struggled with the wiper blades, eventually getting them turned on.

“Jesus.” Claire stared out at the rain.

“What’s your name, ma’am? You okay?”

_Ma’am?_ Claire could get used to ‘ma’am’. She nodded, “Claire. It’s Claire.

A moment of silence and their breaths echoing in the car. Windows steamed from the humidity of their soaked clothes, “Nice to meet you, Claire. Where you headed?”

“Into Raccoon.” She swallowed hard, “My brother…and my…friend are there.” She supposed she and Jill were friends. She’d seen pictures of Jill and they talked a fair bit over text. _You might be a bridesmaid._

“Things have gotten really strange in Raccoon today. I…It’s my first day. I was on my way to my first shift. Got moved into town last weekend. Visited a friend the next town over.” Leon wiped the sweat and rain drops off his brow with his sleeve, “Cell coverage has been down and we heard there was some kind of state of emergency on the radio but there’s nothing on the news yet.”

Claire blinked, “Weird. I’m looking for my brother. He decided to enroll in some no technology study but it’s been weeks and I was getting worried about him.”

“Yeah, there’s that medical research center in town.” Leon mentioned.

“Right.” Claire remembered that. There was a massive hospital for various clinical trials located in the heart of the village. Fellow students from her university had participated in various internships there, “He used to be a cop. Well…game wardens. Him and my friend, Jill. You know them?”

“What’s your brother’s name?”

“Chris Redfield.” Claire stated.

Leon bit his lip and shook his head, “No. Sorry.”

“Hey, you’re new right?” He looked sideways at her, “Plenty of time to get to know everyone. My bike is back there. Think they’re going to lock it and us into evidence?”

“Probably.” Leon muttered, “This is all a little too weird. Can’t even get the radio to work. It’s dead.” She showed her the handheld built into the dashboard—silence when he tried to press down the button on the receiver.

“My brother used to always bitch about how bad reception was out here. Even with the police radios.” Claire mentioned, “Who knows.”

“We’ll get to the police station and get to the bottom of it.”

“Yeah. And I need to get in touch with Jill. I haven’t been able to reach her and she wanted me to swing by.” Insisted on it, more like. Claire had her address saved in a screenshot on her phone as well as the post-it note tucked into her jeans pocket.

“Right. Okay. We’ll make sure to check up on her too.” Leon decided.

_‘We’ll?’_ Maybe she and Leon were a team now.

\--

**Thanks for reading! Leave me a comment!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you to all of my readers and all the people who reach out to me/support this thing** **😊**

**Especially @carnealchamomile who drew cute little sketches of my Chris, Claire and Jill! Posted below.**

**TW: Gore/severe injury mentions!**

**Chapter 11:**

Jill clenched the wheel, driving over the curbs felt like it rattled through her teeth and she hoped she wasn’t doing any real damage to the shocks. It was meant to be a vehicle for off roading, wasn’t it?

_Sorry. Sorry. Sorry._ Each bump of the tires as she pulled over a traffic island and eventually managed to get out of the gridlock and toward the fuel station she frequented. Packed. A line out the door. Jill wasn’t sure if it was an infected person, or just a brawl, but she looked long enough to see someone getting decked in the nose.

“Bad idea.” Brad’s voice quivered.

“I agree.”

“What about the police station?” Brad tried, “Maybe they know what’s going on. Worst case we barricade in. You’re not Chris and didn’t threaten to physically harm anyone so they’ll let you in the door.” He found his own statement funnier than she did.

“Good idea.” Jill decided. Not that she wanted to go there, but if there was this level of emergency, maybe they’d take her back into the police force. Realize she and Chris hadn’t embellished their hellish reports of monsters and viral weapons. Brad flew helicopters. They might need one to get out of town at this rate.

It was an awkward drive through town, jumping the dividers between the lanes again. Someone pointed a pistol at her through the window but Jill ducked her head and kept driving. The gas gauge crawled lower with all the off roading she was doing. An eighth of a tank. No way could she get out of town on that, especially off road with the four-wheel on. _A long hike out of town at this point might not be a bad idea._

She skidded her breaks into the back lot of the main station. Jill made sure to lock the Jeep and stuff the keys into her sport bra. Her pistol still hidden in her jacket.

As soon as they made it into the back door of the station, Jill knew it was a terrible mistake. People were screaming. Running. There was blood on the tile floors—as if someone had been dragged. A man who’d transformed into a zombie, handcuffed to a chair, thrashing against the metal on his wrist, teeth snapping at the air.

Jill felt a shiver run through her body, “This is bad.”

“This way.” Brad led her along. She wasn’t very familiar with the Main Street office and was glad to let him take her up the stairs. Another, distant scream. Jill forced her knees not to jounce as she walked, “Guess they’re not checking IDs, huh?” Another lame joke by Brad. Jill couldn’t bring herself to force a smile.

“Guess not.” She wasn’t sure why she was following him, but her own brain was spinning and unable to formulate a plan of her own. An office upstairs with no windows and two desks. Old computers sitting on the surfaces. From the nameplate, one of the desks was Brad’s.

She always assumed he worked out of the hospital not the police station but it wasn’t like she knew him well.

 _I don’t even want to imagine what the hospital looks like right now._ She’d heard in the news of past viral outbreaks in cities where hospitals were quickly overwhelmed. There was never anything like T-virus, though, where the victims became inhuman and vicious.

He grabbed a photograph and a bag of cough drops off his desk. It was a small, windowless room. Another desk with a name which was familiar to Jill from her time as a warden but she couldn’t connect the face in her mind no matter how hard she tried. _Doesn’t fucking matter._ Jill had her pistol out, she stood watch on the door while Brad rummaged through the desks.

Her arms tingled. _Instinct._ Jill didn’t want to be here anymore. Another scream rattled downstairs. She was sweating on top of an already humid, damp day and her jacket stuck to her skin with the moisture. “I think we need to get out of here.” Jill’s mouth went dry and she felt something tugging in her chest—the feeling of weightlessness before a drop on a roller coaster.

“We’re safe—”

“Brad.” Another howling scream form downstairs, followed by a barrage of sharp cracks from a pistol discharging. Jill felt as though she was floating, watching herself, “Move!” She insisted, grabbing his arm harshly and taking him out the door.

People were running down the hall, shrieking. A woman shouldered past the two of them and kept running. A uniformed officer turned, drew his pistol, and fired two shots.

A long, tentacle-looking tendril shot from around the corner, wrapping around his neck and yanking him forward. Blood splattered across the wallpaper.

“Fuck is that?!” Brad muttered, “Those monsters?!”

“Doesn’t matter!” Jill turned and bolted with him.

“How did those things get into the city—”

“Doesn’t _fucking_ matter.” It sounded like scampering feet behind them, she looked over her shoulder. Her first thought was a lizard—it was massive, clinging to the wall like gecko as it bounded after them, “Run!” She hit the door at the end of the hallway moments before Brad. He screamed.

The creature pounced on him, needle teeth tearing into his shoulder, taking a chunk. Blood spurted from the wound. Jill’s pistol rocked in her hand, unloading into the grotesque, swollen head. Two shots which she’d misfired, hitting the back of the shoulders instead. It slumped to the side regardless. 

Brad’s bicep was gone, flesh dangling from bone. He looked at the wound and lay there, motionless, blood pouring from him onto the old linoleum, “Brad! Come on!” Jill cried. She wasn’t sure she had a plan. The creature was finding its footing again, limbs flailing like a turtle trapped on its back.

“It’s not that bad!” Jill lied to him, she smacked his cheek lightly and hauled him up by the good arm. He howled in pain while leaning heavily on her. Somehow she managed to get through the door to the stairwell with the two of them. His weight nearly took her to the floor. _Shock, he’s losing too much blood too fast! Stop the bleeding! Use your jacket!_

His knees gave out. His arm bitten down to the bone, mostly degloved. Jill almost retched at the sight of white humerus exposed. Brad’s limp body against the door was the only thing stopping the creature from immediately plowing into the stairwell.

Not knowing how to properly hit the latch, it just banged its head, over and over. It would hit the right spot eventually and swing the damn thing open: “Come on!” Jill grabbed his good arm again, eliciting another scream from Brad, “Come on! Stand!” She shouted at him. His face twisted and tears rolled down his cheeks.

“I can’t!” He gasped. Blood cascaded to the floor. His face matched the color of the eggshell painted walls, “I can’t.” He shook his head. His chest heaved in little gasps.

“Brad—”

“You know how this ends!”

“I don’t know how this ends!” The creature slammed into the door again. The high pitched shriek it made rattled her eardrums, “Brad!”

“Go!” He shoved her weakly.

“Brad!” The creature slammed the door again, this time hitting the latch. For the second time his body was the only thing that stopped it from busting through.

“Go!” He yelled at her. Good hand raised to her hip, impressive strength shoved Jill down the flight of stairs. The creature shoved the door open, jaws snapping and tearing on Brad’s shoulder and neck.

He gurgled.

Blood spilled again.

Jill ran.

“I’m sorry!” She lost her balance from the shove and scrambled down the stairs on all fours, half sobbing, half breathing. The gasps she made echoed in the stairwell around her as she scrambled for the ground floor. _Dead. He’s fucking dead!_ Mouth dry. Jill gagged again on her way out the door, image of his degloved arm permanently burned behind her eyes. The crunch of his flesh and bones as the creature bit down upon him, the sound of tearing above her head. The same scampering footsteps as she knew the beast bounded after her.

They hadn’t seen this variety before, this type of monster with the long tongue and leather flesh and needle teeth. Another of Umbrella’s weapons she was sure—designed to clear buildings. Biological drones. All that bullshit. Jill slammed into the fire escape door. Alarms blared. She didn’t care. She ran. Another of the undead staggered toward her in the parking lot.

 _How did this happen so fast?_ She bolted around him, heading for the Jeep. Banging on the emergency exit door which she’d left in her dust but Jill couldn’t think about it. Her hands trembled, she ripped the keys out of her bra. The creature bounded through the door.

Jill ripped the door to the car open and practically fell inside. She twisted the key in the ignition desperately. The bounding monster slowed, head cocked sideways as it stalked on all fours, catlike. Maybe confused by her getting into the vehicle. Jill stomped the gas.

Her body felt sticky and wet. It was then that she looked down and saw the blood covering her jacket and hands, soaking through the canvas and into her tank top beneath. Her stomach churned painfully. Jill had to open the windows and get air. Bloody fingerprints on the dashboard. _I’ll have to clean it. Chris’ car._ She drove over the grass, hands shaking, panting. Jill pulled the Wrangler into her driveway. The keys were soaked in blood that she’d transferred from her hands. She staggered to the front door and nearly fell through.

Jill collapsed to her knees for a moment, letting the door slam behind her. Tears dripped to the floor. She groaned and shrugged off her jacket, whimpering and staggering to her laundry room where she dropped it into the washer. Her tank top next. A bloody spot left on her belly where it soaked all the way through. Droplets on her jeans. _Hands. Soap._

Jill scrubbed her hands and arms up to her elbows, scalding herself on the hot water. _He’s dead. What do I do? The virus is in the city._ Still no reception on her phone. Purposely blocked at this point, she figured, hands shaking too hard to return it to her pocket.

_Oh God, what do I do?_

She rested her elbows on the counter.

Fresh clothes would be a good start.

**\--**

**** https://carnealchamomile.tumblr.com/post/618205584203857920/fanart-for-jkit45-for-her-fic-homefront 

**Thanks so much for reading** **😊 please review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12:**

Leon drove with the speedometer exactly on the limit and it made Claire want to throttle him, “Go faster.” She said without thinking.

“I’m a cop.”

There were dead people behind them. Claire’s hands and knees trembled, she bounced her toes on the floor of the car, “Can you turn the sirens on or is that not allowed?”

Leon groped around the dashboard until he finally found the switch and the churning blue and red lights came to life above their heads. He swerved into the fast land and put the petal down, “Good idea.”

“What a first day—”

“Tell me about it.”

Claire tried her best to still herself, the lights from the cruiser reflected in the raindrops spattered on the windshield. She zoned, staring at the trees. _So fucking remote._ She chewed the inside of her lip out of nervousness.

_In the car with a strange man and no cell phone service. At least Leon seems pretty normal._ The phone was on roam now _._ Claire went to stuff it into her bag. A strike of panic through her.

_My fucking bag!_ She’d left her stupid saddlebag on the bike at the station. _Oh well. Maybe the cops can get it for me. I’m sure as hell not going back there._

So much for having a change of dry clothes when she finally hunted down Chris and Jill. The day started to wane into the evening. Hopefully they’d be around. Done with work or whatever they got up to lately.

“A barricade?” Leon asked, slowing the cruiser and turning off the lights as they approached.

“Your friends?” Claire asked.

His jaw tightened, “Maybe.” There were several unmarked vehicles. Cement blocks stacked on the road and an armored car blocking the remaining lane space on the ramp.

Leon rolled down the window of a silver-haired, lanky man. He wore an armored vest and had his hand on the pistol strapped to his leg. Maybe he was with the R.D.P., but this group seemed more formal than Claire had ever known Raccoon’s rag-tag country police force to be. She swallowed and bit her tongue, “Hello, sir. We need to get into town, I’m with the R.D.P.—there’s somebody hurt pretty bad at the service station up the road and we can’t get cell—”

“You need to keep driving.” The man cut Leon off. His accent was thick. Russian, maybe? Claire wasn’t good at placing accents. Not someone she was expecting to be working in middle of nowhere America. The lack of ‘hick-drawl’ threw her off. _Chris did move here from L.A. on his own free will..._

“Please.” Her turn to talk, she sensed Leon might be a rule follower. This guy needed some sweet talking: “Hi, my name’s Claire. I hope everything’s okay--my brother’s a cop in the city, and they really need police or an ambulance up the road—there are really sick people—”

“The ramp is closed. You’ll have to go up to the next exit.” He insisted again.

Leon and Claire exchanged a glance. Leon looked as confused as she did, “No. No. I’m a police officer for the R.P.D. We can’t do that. We need you to call an ambulance—”

“The petrol station already has a team going to take care of it. We got a call the injured people are taken care of.” The man assured, “Do you have injuries?”

“No, no.” They both shook their heads.

“You need to keep driving.” The silver-haired stranger in the Kevlar insisted.

“I need to see my brother. Is there another way to town? The next exit isn’t for miles!” She protested, twisting in the seat to get a better look at him. His piercing blue-eyed glare bored through her. Claire held his gaze.

Leon cleared his throat and handed the man his badge, which seemed to only make his jaw tighten further. “I have to get the cruiser to the station or I’ll have a lot of explaining to do. You’re not R.P.D., are you with the military?”

“Private construction security.” The man rasped out, studying Leon against the badge. He practically tossed it back in the window, “Alright, fine.” He stepped back from the window, “Move the truck! Let them through!”

Claire swore she felt her stomach drop into her pelvis when the armored truck moved. There was no construction on the ramp. It merely led to the main strip of Raccoon Village where it seemed there was a gridlock of traffic. _I don’t know if we should have done this._ She swallowed. A turn over her shoulder and they’d moved the armored truck back into its place blocking the ramp.

The cars were abandoned, some with doors left open. Shopfronts were dark with the windows drawn, stormy sky reflecting against the glass, “What the fuck?” Claire managed.

Leon’s hands tightened on the wheel, “What happened here?”

“Think it’s that same sickness from the gas station?” Claire looked at him.

“I sure fucking hope not.” But Leon didn’t sound convinced. In a parking lot they crawled past as they drove on the shoulder, Claire swore she saw a man staggering mindlessly in a circle, “Holy fuck.”

“You saw him too?” Claire’s voice was breathless.

“The body with the tumors leaned against the door?” Leon made a noise like she was feeling ill.

“No, the one staggering around between the buildings.” She muttered back at him.

Leon huffed a breath, “You said your brother was military and a cop. Do you know how to fire a gun?”

“Holy shit, Leon.” She muttered and unfastened her seatbelt. It made her feel better, in case they needed to ditch the car and run.

“I know. We’re gong to go to the police station. It will be okay—”

“Wait!” Claire tried, “What if we head to the warden station? It’s on the edge of the park so we get off this strip and away from the shitshow. Jill lives right down the street from there, she gave me her address. We should see if we can find them! I don’t think we can drive further up Main!” Too many abandoned cars, too many people staggering around mindlessly.

Leon looked at her and nodded again, “Okay. Yeah. Good idea.” It took nearly running over a bench on the sidewalk to get turned around and headed in the correct direction.

More silhouettes of humans staggering aimlessly between the cars, “Don’t open the doors for any of these people. They might be sick.”

“Good idea.” Leon said again. The locks clicked.

It didn’t seem like anything was much better at the warden station than the rest of the city. An outdated cinderblock structure. A relic of the Cold War which Claire figured could survive a nuclear blast. There were no visible windows except the square in the front door, just the cold concrete blocks and paint chipping sign: RACCOON FISH AND GAME.

_It looks dark._ Claire pulled the latch and jumped out of the passenger door before Leon stopped the damn car, “Chris!? Chief Irons!?” Claire called. That was the chief’s name, right? She was pretty certain.

She darted for the door, staggering through, and finding the central lobby dark. “Is the power out?!” Claire asked. Leon and she groped around the walls. He flipped a switch,

“Guess so.” She detected his fear at her side.

The square of sunlight pouring in from the lone window as the clouds cleared for the evening was the only source of light.

“Hello!?” He called out. It was a small waiting room where reports were taken. Security glass with a microphone to speak with the secretary. But no one was there, the office was dark. Had everyone left town? Maybe she and Leon needed to get back in the car and head the hell out. Leon waved at the security camera mounted in the corner of the ceiling. They stood for a moment, watching the camera and waiting. Breaths echoed in the tiny waiting room. Old chairs with ripped padding haphazardly tossed around. Dusty magazines left in a pile on the table. Claire figured not too many people came and sat in the lobby of the fish and game office here.

Claire shook her head. This was taking too long. “I’m Chris Redfield’s sister! My hands are up! There’s something going on in town and we need help! I’m coming back!” She shouted through the door. This was probably a bad idea to push through the door into the back of a police station, but it swung open easily.

She kept her hands up as promised, stepping into the offices. It was a hallway with a few blocked doors. Various rooms with turned off computers. Floodlights cast eerie yellow light down the halls, aged linoleum. Someone must have pulled the fire alarm. The siren had been silenced but each unit on the walls flashed white light.

Claire swallowed. Her feet kept moving forward. Leon had his hands up too. A part of her wished he had a gun out, but that might be a death sentence in itself with a trigger-happy cop. Heavy footsteps above their heads.

Both froze. Claire looked up, “Is there a second floor?”

“Who’s up there?” Leon muttered, “Maybe we should check?”

“I don’t know about that.” Claire huffed a sigh, “The main office where Chris and Jill used to work is upstairs.”

“Used to work? They’re not cops anymore?” Leon pressed. Claire didn’t know the full circumstances about why Jill and Chris were no longer on the force, so she simply put her finger to her lips and pointed above their heads. No need to alert whoever was up there of what they were doing.

It was an easy excuse, if nothing else. Leon took the lead, “I don’t know if this is a good idea.” She found herself speaking as he tugged on the door handle.

“Maybe we should check it out.” He looked scared. Claire followed close behind him. The footsteps pounded above them. Whoever it was, they were getting close to the top of the stairwell. Claire swallowed, she had a lump in her throat.

“Hello?!” Leon asked.

A roar. For some reason all she could think of was a lion, “RRRRR…PPPPP……DDD……” Like a lion trying to speak. The door above their heads smashed open. The shadow was that of a tall man, massive. He wore a black jacket. _Did he just say ‘R.P.D.’?!_

That was all Claire saw before she was running, “What is that?!” She and Leon were bolting. The door at the bottom of the stairwell was torn off its hinges behind them.

_It’s a giant!_ She didn’t dare look back, “Car! Go!” Leon shouted.

Claire didn’t question that, they slammed through the door to the waiting room and then nearly tripped over each other in their panic to get outside. He caught her elbow, steadying her and saving her a faceplant.

“Jill’s house!” Claire nodded. She heard a roar come from within the cinderblock walls.

“Which way?” Leon demanded, he twisted the key. Claire slammed the door.

“Uh…I don’t know. It’s number sixteen I think it’s a ways up down the street!”

“Into the park!?” Leon cried. He stomped the gas in reverse. The tires skidded on the gravel. Claire held the door handle to stop herself from being flung into the dashboard.

“Yes! That way! Go!” She pointed at the downward inclining lane.

They didn’t speak all of the way to Jill’s. A short drive. Five minutes, maybe. As they approached, she caught a glimpse of something familiar in Jill’s backyard, “The Wrangler! That one! The little cabin!” Claire pointed.

“Wrangler?” 

“Chris’ car!” Her bones were jelly, the adrenaline was wearing off now, and Claire did her best to stand up from the cop car. Breathless, she jogged her way to the front door and raised her hand, “Oh, Chris! Thank, god! Imma’ fucking kill you.” She was almost crying. Almost. When she saw him she might start. Leon was stiff behind her.

The figure of a dark haired, pale-skinned woman yanking open the door nearly startled Claire out of her skin. She had striking, almost grey, blue eyes. Muscular and svelte in her tank top: “Jill! Oh, fuck, Jill! Where’s Chris?”

\---

DUN DUN DUN

Thanks for reading 😊


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you for all the kudos <3 IT’s been a busy few weeks. Here’s to hoping I can do a second chapter this weekend. You all are lovely! **

**Chapter 13:**

Claire was lanky and tall. For some reason Jill never imagined her being so tall, especially not a half a head higher as turned out to be the case. She had the same olive skin and dark eyes as Chris, dark cherry colored hair pulled into a ponytail at the top of her head. The confused expression she made at Jill was a mirror of her brother’s as she staggered into the living room, looking back and forth for the man who was very much not at Jill’s house, “His car. Chris. He’s here?”

“No.” Jill said. She realized Claire hadn’t heard her, her voice had been too soft: “No.” A little louder. Claire whipped around.

“Where is he? At his apartment?”

“He’s out of town.” She wrapped her arms around her middle. Brad’s blood felt like it was still on her skin despite scrubbing herself, Jill had an urge to clean beneath her nails again.

“What? Where? …Well, I guess that’s good. Being out of town.” Claire pushed her hair back, pacing back and forth, “Why is he out of town? Did he make it out? Why is his car here?”

“He’s in Europe.” Jill still hugged herself around her middle, leaning her back against the breakfast bar in the cabin, “I’m sorry. They started blocking phone signal and I couldn’t warn you not to come after the call dropped last night.” Jill pressed her face into her hand, taking a breath to steady herself.

“Europe!?” Claire whirled around at her, “I don’t know if you realize that Europe is a fucking _continent_ , Jill!”

“I know—”

Claire cut her off again. Jill didn’t care. She wasn’t sure she could formulate a rational sentence right now. _That thing ate Brad’s arm halfway off. Brad’s dead._ “Where in Europe? Why? To study the affects of technology on his developing- man-brain?”

The man Claire was with made a confused snort at that, “How old is he?”

“He’s fucking twenty-six!” She whipped toward him.

“I don’t know.” Jill inhaled to steady herself. _Claire. She’s young. You have to pull it together here! For her!_ “Somewhere in Italy. But I haven’t been able to get in contact—”

“What—”

It was Jill’s turn to cut her off, “This situation. Chris and I have been investigating this.”

“The disease?” The man with Claire clarified.

“Yeah. T-Virus. We found a facility that lost control of if a few months ago in the woods. We’ve been being watched ever since. But I don’t think the spill was ever contained. That’s why it’s in the town—”

“That’s why you aren’t game-wardening anymore.” Claire finished for her.

Jill nodded along, “I don’t have my passport up to date so I didn’t go with him. I’m sorry we were lying to you.” She looked at the floor again, partially expecting Claire to go off on her. A tense silence.

The stray who’d staggered in with Claire was the one to break the awkwardness settled between the women: “Well, don’t worry, ma’am: I’m with the R.P.D. My name is Leon.”

Claire beamed at that, “Yeah! It’s his first day! This is Leon! He’s doing great!”

_Oh fuck. First day?_ “Wow. What a first day.” _Feel safer already._ Jill huffed a sigh.

“Fuck is wrong with you guys? Seriously? Europe?” Claire had every right to be mad. Jill was resigned to a verbal ass-kicking. She’d been through worse than what Claire could dish out. She knew when to just shut up and take it.

“I know.” Jill stated, she hugged herself.

Another pause before Claire asked a harder question: “Is Chris even fucking _alive?”_

That demand felt like an imaginary blade twisting in Jill’s belly: “I don’t know.” She pressed the heel of her hand to her eyes, “I think so. The people he was with are trustworthy.”

“Jill?” Silence, “Jill? Are you okay? There’s blood on the floor.” Claire. Claire was such a talker and she couldn’t let anything go. Jill already knew that from the phone calls they shared.

A deep breath to calm down and stop herself from bursting into tears, “My…friend just died…monsters in the city.” She hugged herself, “I’m okay.”

“Monsters?” Claire looked strangely at her, “The zombies? Oh…shit…”

“I’m…” The man started, turning his face down to the linoleum in her kitchen, “I’m sorry.”

“Jilly—” Claire’s shadow stepped toward her. Arms out. Jill hugged herself and then Claire’s soggy jacket sleeves were around her top half and her face pressed into Jill’s shoulder, “Are you okay, Jill?”

To say ‘yes’ was a lie, but Jill nodded anyway. Maybe she and Claire were closer friends than she always perceived them being. Jill wasn’t usually a hugger, she raised her hand to meet the back of Claire’s red, wet leather jacket and pat her back, “Yes.”

“There was a giant at the police station.” Claire muttered against her, “We’re going to be okay, right?”

“Yes.” She lied.

“The warden’s office.” Leon corrected Claire.

“Huh?” Jill asked, pulling back from Claire’s embrace.

“A tall guy. Really tall. Wearing a trench coat. He chased us out of the station!”

Jill looked between the two of them. Young and wide-eyed and absolutely horrified by whatever they had seen, “What?”

_Tyrant?_ She suddenly remembered the grotesque, lab-grown creature which resided at the Arklay Facility. Nearly impervious to any sort of damage. A tall, virally mutated humanoid with the same bloodlust of Umbrella’s other viral creations. Jill swallowed hard. “Maybe we should stay away.”

“Should we drive out of town in the Jeep? Will they let us out of town?” Claire and Leon both were speaking at once, plotting with each other and leaning against her loveseat. Some hair-brained idea about how they were going to sweet talk with the mercenaries blocking the roads in and out of town.

“Even if that worked.” Jill cleared her throat, tired of useless plans being thrown at her. Her brain got less fuzzy. As if she’d shaken off the strange sleepy feeling of shock from witnessing Brad’s death. She’d deal with it. Later. _Compartmentalize!_ No time to break into a mess right now, “Even if that worked. Even if somehow you talked them into letting you out of a massive, quarantine cover up.” Jill swallowed, “The Jeep is out of gas. Chris left it with me. We need gas. And we need bullets. I have one clip.” Jill didn’t make a habit of stockpiling weapons at her house. She’d burned through most of what she had trying to get home: “We can go back to the warden station.” She suggested.

“There’s a giant there!” Claire protested.

“The cop car has gas.” Leon shrugged his shoulders. Jill looked out her window.

Sure enough, a cruiser was parked in her driveway. Her brain had been so fuzzy when they arrived that apparently she’d never even registered what they’d driven to her _in._

“You didn’t fucking steal a police car. Don’t you have a bike?”

“I left it at a gas station. Zombie. We didn’t steal it—”

“We…barrowed it. It was there. I have a badge.” Leon explained.

“Are you kidding me?” Jill grumbled.

“Next time we’ll walk!” Claire shot back at her, throwing her hands and rolling her eyes, “There was a fuckin’ guy biting people!”

“Holy fuck.” Jill muttered, “Stand still. Both of you.” Their weaving back and forth on nervous feet made her anxiety worse than it already was. She grabbed her pistol from the kitchen counter where she’d left it. One clip. “Let’s go. I drive.” Leon quickly dug the keys to the cruiser from his pocket and handed them to Jill. They filed dutifully out the front door of her cabin.

She slid into the diver’s seat with Leon in the passenger and Claire clamoring into the back, “If you see that ‘giant’.” Jill continued, “If you see it. You don’t look back. You run. You understand?”

“You know about giants?” Leon’s bright blue eyes were wide, staring into her.

“I’ve dealt with something like that before.” Jill told him, “We’re going to stay as far away from it as we can. You understand?” Looking up to see Claire nodding in the rearview mirror was enough for her. She threw the cruiser in reverse and stepped on the gas.

_No tyrants in the warden station, please._

\--

Thanks for reading! : )


	14. Chapter 14

**If you all haven’t seen _Aliens_ before I highly, highly recommend watching. A lot of it influences the way I wrote this chapter. It’s a great quarantine movie. Classic scifi. **

**Thanks to all my readers as always.**

**Chapter 14:**

“Jill…guys….” Claire said. Jill twisted to look at her, “Maybe we should uh…load up on supplies. Unless you’re coming back here.”

Jill exhaled and puffed out her cheeks. _She’s practical._ “Ten minutes. We’ll spend ten minutes and grab some things.” She should probably get the bugout bag that she’d already packed. It wasn’t something she thought of when they first left the cabin. Jill darted through her door and tossed the small backpack over her shoulders. Claire immediately went to the counter, grabbing the bottle of bourbon they’d stolen from Wesker.

“Bring it. In case someone gets hurt.” Leon stated. That was a good idea. Jill’s brain was still fuzzy. She marched for her hall closet, pulling out the Maglite and handing it over to Leon. Jill stuffed her arms through the sleeves of a black fleece. Her fresh tank top wasn’t worth much for warmth with how the night was cooling down from the rainstorms.

“Claire, you’re soaked. You must be freezing.”

“I’m fine.” Claire assured her, “Got another bag?”

Jill nodded. She had an old hip pouch from the R.P.D. which she tossed out of the closet toward Claire. Meanwhile, Leon was looking at the bourbon bottle.

“You’ve got some nice tastes, Jill.”

“I stole it.” She grumbled, coincidently stuffing her lockpick into her pocket at the same time the words came from her mouth.

“Oh.” Leon let Claire snatch it from his hands, stuffing it into the hip patch she’d attached to her belt.

“That’s my girl! Robbing liquor stores!” Claire beamed.

“From an abandoned house. Not a liquor store. I’m not that much of a criminal. First aid kit.” Another thing she kept in her closet. One of the gimmicky cheap ones which she’d won at some event or another which probably didn’t contain much more than band-aids, but Jill tossed it to Claire anyway. It was still sealed in its packaging, “We good?”

“Anything else?” Claire asked.

“Do you have any more weapons?” Leon followed with.

Jill shook her head. “We’re headed for the substation, remember?”

She gripped the steering wheel, “Okay.” She started, swallowing hard, “Here’s the plan.” The police cruiser tires crunched on the gravel. Jill slammed the breaks harder than she meant to, Leon and Claire stared at her, waiting for her to speak, “We get in. We get some supplies. Weapons if they haven’t changed the locks. Then we get out. Fast. Then gas for the Wrangler. So we’re not driving a ‘barrowed’ cop car around. But weapons first.”

The two nodded at her, silently. “Easy, breezy, beautiful. Fast. Got it.” Claire spoke up in a breathy voice after a few moments of silence. 

“If you see the tyrant—”

“Tyrant?” Leon asked, squinting at her. The sun was almost gone behind the horizon, only the final grey sky before night set in. Streetlights were few and far between out here. It was a good thing that Claire had suggested going back for supplies. She hoped the batteries in the flashlight would hold up for a while. 

“The ‘giant’.” Jill made quotation marks with her fingers, “Don’t mess with it. Run. Sound good?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Leon nodded, Claire echoed. They were out of the car in a moment. Leon and Claire were keyed up and it made her nervous. The two practically bounced on their feet, constantly throwing glances over their shoulders, onto the dark street behind them.

Jill pulled open the front door. She fumbled for the light in the lobby and flicked it on. _No power._ The generator was on as far as she could tell from the glow of the floodlights down the hallway. Jill pushed open the door, _“He was on the stairs!”_ Claire whispered, pointing to the stairwell at the end of the hall.

Jill’s nerves stood on end. It seemed like they were alone in the building but given the nature of Umbrella’s Bio-Organic Weapons, B.O.W.s, being stalked was all too likely. _How fast that happened with Brad._ Leon had a pistol out as well, he held it with the muzzle down against his leg. Claire was sandwiched between them. Jill opened one door at a time to the offices.

They were left empty. Coffee on desks, papers tossed to the floor. A puddle of blood sat on the linoleum by one of the desks in the accounting department. It made her cringe and step backward.

Claire made a disgusted noise behind her. Jill kept moving forward. _Warden office is upstairs. Have to get there. Irons’ satellite office is up there too._ His main office with all the stupid taxidermy from whatever hunting expeditions Umbrella funded for him was at the Main Street Station.

She kept walking. _Be where you are. One issue at a time._ Irons was next, they were at the satellite warden office now. Jill heaved a breath and tugged open the door to the stairwell. She paused to listen. Leon and Claire’s nervous breathing behind her.

Silence. Jill gave a nod and held the door open for Claire who stepped quietly behind her. Jill gave motion to pause again at the first landing. Leon watched behind them.

_Quiet. Nothing. Keep moving._ Jill swallowed. She wanted out of this building. The familiar feeling of electricity gave her gooseflesh as it had before the creatures pounced on her and Brad. Maybe it was in her head. Maybe another thunderstorm rolling over the mountains. _Instinct._ It was Chris’ voice that echoed in her head, _don’t say that it’s quiet. Don’t even think it. It’s never quiet. You’ll jinx it._ She wondered if Claire believed in that too as she steeled herself to pull open the door for the second floor. 

Another empty hall. No tyrants in sight. Dim, yellowed floodlights on yellowed linoleum. Most of Umbrella’s bribe money went to the hospital, not this dated, cinderblock tomb of a building.

Claire was inches behind her, close enough she heard her exhale and felt the tickle of air on her neck. Jill made her way to the warden office. She heaved a breath and twisted the door handle. It popped open. There was a small locked weapons cage inside the office where they sat for their paperwork.

Immediately, Jill saw it was furnished with a new, purple-faced combination lock. She swore, “Fuck. We’ll need bolt cutters.” Two shot guns, several boxes of nine-millimeter bullets for her pistol sat tauntingly behind the steel netting. Leon gave the lock a useless tug.

“This was your and Chris’ office, huh?” Claire ran her fingertips over one of the old, wooden desks. Heavy, awful things with gouged surfaces and locking roll-tops which only folded down properly with pounding and shouting.

It occurred to Jill she hadn’t been in this room since the Arklay Mansion Incident. She’d been forcibly taken to the hospital and then watched gather her belongings from the locker room. Irons had packed a box with the personal effects from her desk on her behalf.

She huffed a sigh. Her name tag was still on her desk. As was Chris’. They’d never taken them down. Enrico’s office, connected to the warden’s, was locked with the windows pulled down. His name was still stuck to the door. _They never cleaned._

Through the gap in the curtains the same image of the warden seal was painted on the wall. He’d been their captain, after all. His desk was left, framed pictures which Jill knew were of his family. The family who he was taken from when Barry pulled the trigger and turned Enrico into another of Umbrella’s statistics. His forest green warden jacket left draped over the chair. _Did they never hire new wardens?_

She gulped and forced herself to keep moving, ducking out the door to the main hallway, placing her back against the jamb to view both directions down the hallway: “There’s a tool room at the end of the hall, and then more tools out back if we can’t find any. There’re bolt cutters somewhere.” Jill never used them, but she’d seen them floating around the building. Placed wherever the latest person to re-organize the tools set them down.

Seeing Enrico’s name on the office jarred her more than she wanted to admit. _Suck it up. You have to keep an eye on Claire. The virus is in the city. Deal with this later_. Jill did her best to force the feeling down again. _Unpaid leave. You’re suspended. He’s dead. So is Joseph. And Sully. And Richard._ Their names were probably on the desks, too. She didn’t dare look. Hearing Leon rummage through the drawers was enough for her to focus on keeping watch outside the door. She felt eyes of her two new friends on her, but Jill ignored them.

“You okay?” Claire asked her. 

“Fine.” Her voice sharper than intended, “Find anything?”

Leon holding a sheathed knife which she knew belonged to Sully made something twist in Jill’s chest again. _You’re too emotional. You’re compromised._ In a normal situation she’d be giving a statement on Brad’s death and then talking to a shrink, but this situation was far from normal. _Arklay again. Live. You can’t make Chris do this alone._ This was survival. The only option was to keep going. “Good. Let’s find bolt cutters.” She forced herself to say. Her voice was strained.

Jill was certain that the next door down the hall was a supply room, but she immediately realized she was wrong. A dark room—apparently the floodlights didn’t work in here. _Office. It’s the office by the locker rooms._

This would be connected to the women’s showers. The supply closet had to be further down the hall.

It was too dark in here. It made her nerves stand on edge. Jill took a step back and went to close the door—

Something moved. A crash of a cup of pencils falling off the desk.

“What was that?” Leon had the Mag-Lite, shining it into the room. The beam jounced around the darkness, glimmering light on dust particles in the air. Jill strained to see as she had her pistol braced on her wrist.

One of the chairs spun from something hitting it. Jill scanned for movement. “Watch your backs.” She swallowed.

“It’s a kid!” Claire shouted. Her volume made Jill’s stomach sink. 

She didn’t know what Claire was seeing but within seconds, the younger Redfield had ripped the Mag-Lite from Leon’s hand and slid on her knees and belly under one of the desks, “Hi… I’m Claire…are you okay?” Claire’s legs sticking out under one of the chairs. Jill tried to move slowly, stalking to the other side of the desk, trying to get a visual on whoever was hiding back there without scaring them off.

Another flurry of movement, knocking over one of the desk chairs with an impressive crash. Jill saw her, then, a little blonde girl who made a run for the door connected to the women’s locker rooms. She tore it open and slammed it. _Not a zombie!_ The noise of the slam echoed through the silent building. _Fuck!_ Claire pulled herself from beneath the desk, jacket bunched up and hair halfway out of her ponytail.

“Get her!” Claire yelled, tearing after her on all fours for a moment before finding her footing and ripping open the locker room door with an equally loud slam. _That’s not good!_ Neither was the strange, distant roaring which Jill was sure echoed through the entire building.

“Claire!” Jill sprinted for her, stuffing the pistol back into the holster under her arm, “Claire!”

\--

_Thanks for reading! Leave me a comment! : )_


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey guys! Wanted to edit from a different perspective to get something posted. I’m not sure how much we will hear from Ada throughout this but I felt like I needed a break on the Jill centric action chapter I was working on.**

**Enjoy <3 **

**Chapter 16:**

Ada normally worked alone. Fingers clenched on the steering wheel as she found herself growing anxious. This was all very wrong. She normally didn’t get rattled—years of training put into practice made her jobs swift and clean.

She was a professional and trained as such. The payment she demanded reflected the time put into her career.

Ada Wong could find anything for anyone. It came with the territory of being a P.I. She’d gotten the license as a young woman after her time spent enlisted. Eventually, her business had branched out from cheating spouses, accepting payments from more and more affluent clientele with much more complicated problems until her name crossed the desk of her current employer.

Umbrella Corporation. The founders’ trust fund kids. Third generation of more money than they knew what to do with: the sort of ungodly, unfathomable sums of money which had the habit of lessening common sense with each successive crop of grandchildren. Ada was sure she had more brains at her disposal than the lot of them combined. This was a can of worms. Lucrative. But still a can of worms. _Get the paycheck and go the fuck home._ “So you’re saying this might have a vaccine? Seems unlikely at best with how cloak and dagger everything is.”

_“As far as I know. It’s not ready but it’s being worked on. But both Doctor Birkins have allegedly been working on it. I’m dead, remember? You’re my eyes on the ground.”_

“And I’m your bodyguard.” The woman’s proclamation beside her both echoed in her Bluetooth and off the steamed car windows. They’d spend the last few hours together in stunned silence, watching the city turn to shit in a matter of hours with the release of T. Accidental or not, Ada wasn’t sure. Maybe it got in the well water. Maybe some animals had been left infected in Arklay after the initial spill months prior. A deliberate attack.

All manner of ideas had been tossed between them. Ada didn’t like not knowing: her job was to know things. That was why she demanded her salary.

Having the boss’ trust-fund connected girlfriend (wife?) beside her didn’t make her feel much better. Probably to keep an eye on her. Most of the work they’d been doing had them partnered.

Something was inexplicably off about the boss and his ‘wife’. Ada had plenty of theories. She knew enough to know they weren’t very normal. It was probably the money mixed with whatever strange things and products they’d used on themselves out of Umbrella’s lab. Ada got a strong feeling that she should watch her step around those topics. They were definitely secretive, Bryer less so than her husband, but with him or one of his staff always listening, the two didn’t have any conversations solely between each other.

Talking notwithstanding, being around this woman for long stretches of time already confirmed most of her suspicious of her unusualness. Ada handled the business she was hired for.

Her job was to know things. Not share her knowledge. Because knowing secrets and keeping them was especially lucrative when it came to the research Umbrella Corporation allegedly conducted.

A gold mine if it ever got into the right hands. Equally with weapons and medical technology. The most economic use of biotech she’d seen if you asked her. Ada knew how to make her money. Whatever circus her boss got himself involved with wasn’t her problem. Her job was to locate the Birkin family, and more importantly, secure their research into this pathogen. Best case scenario was get the doctors and their young daughter out of the city and deliver them to a new, safe laboratory to continue their desperately needed research and spare the boss having to find replacements. That seemed less likely as the hours passed and the situation devolved.

T-Virus was a deadly weapon, and they were lucky Raccoon Village was remote enough to contain. A major city would have been absolutely catastrophic.

Somehow this still wasn’t as depressing as keeping tabs on the ex-game wardens who’d survived the first spill in Arklay and their pitiful lives following the fact. _Valentine’s probably dead or ducked out of town, Redfield number two probably hit the barrier and was stopped, Redfield number one was last seen in Milan._ Ada memorized what she had to. This was all a game with many moving parts. The most important piece currently was the Birkin family. Jill and Chris would eventually get back to sucking each other’s emotional clits if they were alive and they’d be easy to find. Ada doubted they’d spend too much time apart, but alas, they weren’t important right now.

“We haven’t seen Birkin in hours—” The woman sitting next to her yawned, “He fuckin’ went somewhere or skipped town.”

_“Could you identify Birkin in a lineup, love?”_

 _God this is so unprofessional._ Being on a goddamn three-way call with this odd couple at all hours, especially as she was trying to get her damn job done.

“I know Birkin.” Bryer huffed, “It wasn’t _that_ long ago.”

_“Five years is a long time.”_

“Not enough to forget what a man looks like.” Bryer had her feet on the dashboard. Her breaths steamed the tinted face shield of the respirator she wore. Another of boss’ orders. That his wife keep her face covered so she wouldn’t be recognized. Apparently she might startle William Birkin as they had some form of negative past with each other. Which, again, made Ada question the intelligence of bringing her along on this escapade at all.

_Keeping an eye on you. This is so dangerous and lucrative that these two freaks are afraid you might run off with the vaccine or the data. Control._ Ada was too well paid for that. Her reputation was a professional one which she couldn’t afford to ruin with such funny business, but she supposed the couple didn’t necessarily know that.

_Paranoid, sheltered, trust fund kids._

“Let’s take a look, can’t we? To his house, at least?” That was actually a fair idea coming out of Bryer.

“I second that. If they’re in the hospital they’re barricaded in. I don’t think anyone is coming to try and get him out. I’m afraid we’ll have to walk.”

“Get our exercise.” Bryer muttered. She wasn’t the type to sit still and she was already out the door, pistol brazenly in her hand.

Ada followed behind her, “Alright, boss lady.” She swallowed, “Can I count on you to tell me if you hear anything?”

The boss and Bryer’s special brand of peculiarity involved a heightened alertness to the world around them.

“I’ll sniff out anything before it gets near us.” Bryer assured her, “Bodyguard, remember?”

_Right. Let’s see how good you are._

\---

**Thanks for reading. I hope to have another chapter with our favorite JillyBean out today.**

**Hope you all are enjoying your weekend!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Boy oh boy is there a lot left of this fic! And there’s a CVX fic up next** **😊 Hope you all enjoy.**

**Suggested listening:**

**_Addicted to You_ Shakira **

**Chapter 16:**

“ _Claire!_ ” Jill whispered frantically. Another roar rattled through the building. Claire was reaching out to the little girl who had pressed herself into the corner.

Jill planted her back against the door after Leon darted through, knowing she wasn’t strong enough to hold back a tyrant.

“Hey…” Claire breathed. Another roar.

“What the fuck is that?” Jill growled through her teeth.

Leon looked like he’d seen a ghost, pale and sweaty: “Trench coat.”

“Oh god—” She tipped her head back against the wood behind her. _Think. Calm. Think._

“Screw the bolt cutters! We need to get out of here!” Jill decided. There was a child with them now. They didn’t stand a chance against a tyrant, especially not one healthier than the one with the deformed heart in Arklay: “There’s a guy who sells guns on Main Street. We’ll go there—”

“No chance. Looters everywhere.” Leon shook his head. She swore she heard pounding footsteps on the stairwell. 

“No choice. We can’t fight that thing.” Satisfied she wasn’t being chased by zombies, the young girl settled. Taking Claire’s hand, she let her haul her to her feet. The child spoke, it was soft, intelligible. Jill only caught the end of her trembling string of words, “…run…”

“Run from what? That?” Leon asked. He had that booming, freshly graduated from training voice. _Too loud!_

That was the last thing Jill could think. Another horrible, gravelly roar. The door in the adjacent office slamming open, sounding like it was literally ripped from its hinges. 

She opened her mouth, “Run—”

Claire grabbed the girl to her chest in the same second the drywall separating the women’s locker room from the office crashed down around them. A plume of dust enveloped Jill. She wasn’t sure if she’d been hit with something, but she was on the ground, her back against the wall.

A massive, looming figure. _He’s not wearing a trench coat_. For some reason that was the first and only thing she could really think. He looked like his entire body was wrapped in black electric tape.

“VAL..ENTINE!” It roared. _Did it say ‘Valentine’?_

Jill watched Claire take the child through the hole in the wall, dragging her away, “JILL!” Her name shouted by Leon as the beast marched toward her. Pistol out in shaking hands. One shot into its head, then a second. It was wearing metal welded armor on it’s head and chest. The shots clinked off.

Hand drawn back to grab her and Jill rolled desperately away, pieces of shattered two by four dug into her back. Gun in her hand, she scrambled, desperate to crawl for the opening in the wall. A massive hand closed around her ankle and dragged her through the shattered bits of sheetrock.

Jill screamed and kicked at the monster but it was strong—she might as well have been kicking a brick wall. A mouthful of dust as she was dragged through the debris. Pistol? She’d lost it somewhere when she was caught. Jill grabbed desperately for something to use as a weapon. A shard of wood from the splintered wall. She wrapped her hand around it and wheeled behind her, driving the piece into the creature’s wrist.

It howled and with panicked twisting, Jill managed to shake its grasp. She struggled to her feet and out the hole in the wall. Into the office, “Claire!?” She screamed. No one. Where were they? Through the door ripped from its hinges.

Jill looked around frantically. At the end of the hall, Leon was trying to get a shot in but she was standing right in the line of fire. Jill staggered to the side, trying to rejoin her group and in a blink the behemoth was in front of her, blocking her from the others, “JILL!” Claire was screaming for her. Jill wished she wouldn’t. _Take the kid! Run! Stop making noise!_

Jill had no choice, she turned tail and ran. The creature right behind her.

_Parking lot. Car._ It was all she could think at the moment. They were going the opposite directions, but everyone was headed downstairs. Maybe they’d listened to her plan. Get back to the car. Get to the gun store on the main strip. It wasn’t much of a contingency but considering she was being chased by this damn thing Jill was a little short of ideas.

She felt the vibrations of the heavy footsteps behind her. The quivering of the floor and a swipe of a massive hand at her back. It was too fast. She hit the stairwell and the tiny door slowed the creature for a moment. Jill heard the massive body jamming in the door frame. The phantom feeling of Brad’s blood splashing on her when they’d been cornered in a different stairwell hours before. Jill scrambled down the stairs.

_“VALENTINE!”_ It roared.

Definitely saying her name. _What the fuck all is going on?_ It was after her. It knew her name. The beast managed to crash into the stairwell. _You dropped your gun._ That was so idiotic. Her side and back hurt from where she’d fallen on the shard of wood. Jill jumped when the creature vaulted over the stair railing to land inches behind her.

Jill leapt for the next door, slamming her knee into it and stinging herself, “Ah, fuck!” It took the wind out of her. No time to let the pain subside. Hopefully she could run it off. She limped down the hall, nearly falling again. Jill darted through the emergency exit. It took her into the back, caged yard where the SUVs and supplies were kept locked in.

_Locked in. Fuck me._ The gate was closed with the heavy chain latched. Not like she had time to play with it.

_“VALENTINE!”_

Jill bolted, she leapt onto the hood of one of the SUVs and scrambled up the windshield like a floundering madwoman to the roof of the car, jamming her knee again as she slipped on the wet glass. She leapt and grasped the chain link fence, stuffing her boot toe into one of the tiny openings and then finding another foot hold.

It was charging. Jill flung her leg over the fence, grasping the wet top bar with every ounce of strength she had because her life depended on it.

Getting closer.

She swung her other leg over. A moment to make sure none of her body parts were stuck in the fence. Another breath to make sure she relaxed her knees as she let go. She hit the ground and let her knees give out as to not injure herself, channeling the force of jumping down by rolling onto her hip and then onto her back and letting her momentum carry her fully over until she was back on her feet.

Jill ran. It slammed the fence and metal squealed while it ripped a hole in the wiring.

Blinding police cruiser headlights in her face. Jill squinted and shielded her face with her forearm. Claire shouted something but Jill wasn’t sure what. She leapt into the back and almost landed on top of the little girl. The door wasn’t closed when Claire stomped the gas, swerving onto the gravel road.

A moment of silence and their breaths echoing. A phone screen being used as a light beside her.

“You’re bleeding.” The little girl told her, looking at her wide eyed. A little older than she initially thought. Maybe twelve. She was wearing a rumpled school uniform which Jill knew was from the only private school in town. An outrageously expensive option for parents who wanted their kids to speak several languages and spend their summers traveling the EU. Chris used to give presentations on wilderness safety there alongside Sully. He’d always been good with kids.

“Where?” Jill looked down at herself. Her body seemed intact other than the adrenaline shakes.

“Your head.” She pointed to her own forehead, “Just a little.”

Jill nodded, maybe it was the adrenaline, but she was suddenly prickled with sweat. She pressed her palm to her forehead and pulled it back. Not enough blood for concern. Her knee didn’t seem damaged, just bruised and stung.

“Jill?” Claire asked softly, throwing a glance over her shoulder. Leon had himself braced against the handle on the car ceiling, his other hand pressed into the dashboard. He didn’t look at her.

“Yeah?”

“Where’s the gun store?”

\--

**Thanks for reading everyone XOXOX**

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	17. Chapter 17

**Thanks to my readers as always : )**

**Chapter 17:**

Claire gripped the wheel. The cop car didn’t maneuver well, a strange rattling noise from something broken in the tire beneath her. Jill panted, face pressed into her hand, “Her name is Sherry. Sherry Birkin.” Claire said, gripping the wheel of the car, “you’re Sherry Birkin, right?”

Jill hand her hand still pressed against the scrape on her forehead. Claire kept her eyes forward on the road. Raccoon was a small town. Maybe Jill would know the name. It was the best she could hope for in this moment. Claire glanced in the rearview again.

Jill’s head was tipped into the back of the passenger seat. Sherry still shone the phone light at her, “Go to Main Street.” Jill muttered against the cushion.

“What?” Claire struggled to see, fumbling to turn on the defog vents as the windshield steamed from the humidity. 

“Go to Main Street. I’ll show you where to go. It’s Kendo’s Outdoor Supply. He’s got hunting supplies. It’s a right turn.” Jill pointed past her shoulder with a trembling hand, leaning between the front seats.

“Hi Sherry.” Jill stated.

That gave Claire a surge of hope, “Oh great!” She said, “You know each other.”

“We don’t.” Jill answered, “Do we?” She asked the girl tiredly, who shook her head. 

“Sherry, hun. Where are your parents?” Claire asked, repositioning her hands on the wheel out of nerves.

“They’re…” She paused. Claire’s heart sunk, “They’re gone.”

Claire nodded in understanding, Leon made a sad exhaling noise, “My parents are gone too.” She said, “It’s just my brother and I. Any siblings?” 

“No.” Sherry answered again, staring out the car window.

“It’ll be okay. We’ll make it out, somewhere safer.” Claire assured, not just Sherry, everyone in the car.

“Hey, Claire.” Jill said. Jill’s voice made her jump. She wasn’t expecting her to speak up, “Pull into the parking garage by the police station on Main. We’ll lock you and Sherry in there to rest and then that way Leon and I can run to the store.”

Claire couldn’t help how snarky she sounded, “You want to split up!?”

“I think you and Sherry should take a rest.”

And then Claire’s brain caught up with her. Sherry had likely just lost her parents to whatever strange T-Virus thing this was, as Jill had told her in her badgering about what she and Chris were investigating, and Sherry didn’t need to be dragged through a ransacked store.

“Okay. Okay. Good idea.” Claire heeded Jill’s advice about how to snake the car into the back of the parking garage, she yanked a cardstock ticket out of the machine and the gate lifted before them, “How do we get out?”

“Anyone have change?” Jill asked, “I’m surprised there’s even power but I guess this is on the generator.” It was dimly lit, hardly enough to see the parking spaces with her headlights. Like the satellite station, only emergency lights were on. It made everything shadowy, dark. The difficulty seeing made her nerves stand on edge.

“Yeah. Yeah.” Leon nodded, he unfastened his seatbelt and twisted himself in the seat to dig his wallet from his back pocket, pulling out of a few singles and tucking them up on the dashboard. Claire cranked the sedan cruiser into a parking spot, partially missing the lines but too tired to be bothered with straightening out.

“Okay.” Claire stated.

“Okay.” Jill echoed, “You and Sherry stay here. It’s a few minutes up the street. We’ll be right back. You guys keep an eye on each other.” Sherry nodded quickly. Claire wanted to argue but bringing Sherry onto the street was a bad idea. There was no denying that. 

“We’ll be fine. Right, Sherry?” Claire asked.

“Yes.” The girl answered softly.

“Good.” Jill said. Leon opened the slide of the pistol he had. He popped the clip out and counted the bullets. Sherry watched with bulging eyes. 

“Be safe, guys.” Leon stated, “See you soon.”

He was handsome. Claire gave him that much. Nice, striking blue eyes and dirty blonde hair, “You too. See you soon.” She echoed. The two of them walked away. Leon’s frame tall next to Jill. He kept glancing behind the two of them as they walked off, their shadows disappearing into the darkness. Claire watched after them, squinting, and unable to see anything except darkness.

A few moments of Claire and Sherry and their breaths inside the car, “Are they going to be back soon?” Sherry asked her.

“Yeah. They’re both police officers. They’ll keep us safe.” Claire assured her, not sure she believed it herself. _Especially if that giant thing comes back!_ But she kept that away from Sherry.

“I…” Sherry cut off.

“What?” Claire twisted in the seat to make eye contact with her. The floodlights in the parking garage made every move cast strange, long shadows from the car windows. Her own made her jump.

“It’s dangerous.” Sherry stated.

“I know, kiddo.” Claire stated, not sure what else to say. They were silent for a few minutes, their damp clothes and breath steaming the windows against the humidity in the air. Claire used her fingertips to clean off the condensation, hoping to increase her line of sight out of the car.

Ten minutes turned to fifteen. Fifteen to twenty. She was glad Sherry stayed silent. Claire wasn’t sure she could keep any conversation going with the girl herself right now, “It’s really dangerous right now. My parents work for Umbrella. They’re trying to make cures for diseases.”

_Umbrella. Of course._ Claire swallowed, “Right. That’s good of them.”

“I hope they have a cure for this.” Sherry continued.

“It sounds like they’re hardworking.” Claire continued. She froze. It looked like a shadow was moving distantly. She watched it sneak along the far wall. Definitely a person. Didn’t look like a zombie. The wrong shape to be either Jill or Leon. “Duck down.” Claire whispered. She lay across the passenger seat. Sherry was quick to throw herself down on the backseat.

_“What is it!?”_ She asked, stricken with panic.

_“I don’t know.”_ Claire whispered back. Her fear spread the taste of copper across her tongue, knees jouncing, “ _Just don’t move. Shhh.”_

 _“Okay.”_ They were silent, their breaths steaming the car. A light shone around the garage.

“Sherry!?” Someone yelled, “Sherry Birkin!? It’s me!” A male voice, Claire shushed her again. But Sherry seemed to settle, “It’s me! The Chief! Sherry!?”

“Irons!” Sherry lifted her head up. Claire felt her stomach twist but Sherry was quick to look out the window in the back seat. The flashlight beam darted across their steamed windows, landing on Claire’s face. She moved slower than Sherry did, who was already out of the car.

“Who are you!?” The gruff reply of a middle aged, round man. He was a big guy, easily as tall as Chris. A disheveled beard and mustache in the dim light. Claire realized he was holding a gun. She reached for the door, “HANDS UP!” His volume startled her, and she did as she was told, pushing them up to the glass window. Heart in her neck.

“C-Claire.” She stuttered out, “Claire.” _Oh fuck. You stole a police car and Leon’s gone._

A badge gleamed on his vest. Apparently, he was a cop.

“Get out of the car!” He shouted at her, Sherry stood at his side, looking blankly.

“That’s Claire! She’s nice!” The little girl stated. She seemed to trust him, glued to his side as he was shouting at her, watching the two of them anxiously.

Claire reached for the handle again, “HANDS UP!” He screamed at her while rushing forward to open the door, “GROUND! ON THE GROUND!”

“What?!” Claire asked. But she slid out of the seat. Her back was wet from the rain and sweat, tank top and jacket stuck to her. Claire’s knees came to the unforgiving pavement. It was wet and cold through her jeans. She kept her hands up, light in her face. 

“Who are you!?”

“C-Claire Redfield, sir.” 

“What are you doing?”

“Visiting my brother.” Voice quivered. 

“I said, GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND!” Claire nodded, desperately. Of all the issues she’d gotten herself into (and subsequently out of) in the past, getting arrested hadn’t been one. She was a good girl in that sense, mostly. Kept her nose clean.

“Please…don’t shoot me.” She breathed, stretching out on her belly. Placing her quivering palms down on the rough asphalt and slowly lowering her chest and stomach down.

“Where is your brother?”

“In Europe, I think.” Claire said. They were being too loud. Their voices were echoing in the space around them.

“Got ID?”

(“That’s Claire! She’s nice!” Sherry assured again on ears which refused to listen).

“Lost it.” 

“Sure you did. Why are you in a cop car?”

“I got picked up by a cop. He brought us here to be safe. Please.” She kept her face down.

“And you think it’s fun to harass little girls?!” Irons was getting loud again. His voice was echoing on the cement. Noise seemed to draw in the creatures. Claire swallowed, hoping nothing was around to hear them.

“No! No! She helped me!” Sherry gripped his arm and he yanked harshly from her. A hard kick, suddenly, into the side of her pelvis which forced her feet, which she’d had resting on the car, onto the ground. It sent a white flash across her vision. Claire groaned, feeling the toe of his boot still on her flesh. He knelt on her back, tightening a pair of zip ties, and she groaned in pain again.

“Sherry?! Do you know this guy?” Claire asked.

“Chief Irons!” Sherry shouted out, “She’s a good guy! Bring her with us!”

A hard yank of her ponytail where he let her face fall back into the unforgiving ground. In her pain, Claire hadn’t realized they were walking away, leaving her on the ground. _What?_ What kind of shit show was going on right now? “MOVE, KID!” And then Sherry screamed.

Claire let out a groan, willing herself to move despite the pain from the kick. She managed to flop onto her bottom and draw her knees up, soreness radiated up the side of her body.

Irons was running, Sherry tucked under his arm and screaming, kicking desperately at him while he swore at her. Maybe Sherry knew this guy, but obviously this had passed beyond good intentions. If he was going to arrest her he wouldn’t have tied her hands and left her: “SHERRY!” Claire dragged herself across the ground to the sharp, rusted edges of the drain built into the cement and maneuvered her bound wrists to press the plastic against the sharp bits. 

A biting pain in her wrists but she grit her teeth, forcing herself to push down harder, sawing back and forth. Sherry’s screams grew distant. Claire bit back her own sob. He was getting away and she was flopping like a fucking idiot on a parking garage floor. _Oh fuck, come on, please!_

Claire threw her weight into it, the sharp edges of the ties made her skin scream. They broke, suddenly, throwing her off balance. Claire staggered forward, on her knees and then on her feet, bolting after Irons.

She saw him disappear through a door, slamming a heavy metal security barrier in her face. It was locked. No exterior handle. Claire slammed her fists into the surface, “I’ll get you, you fucker!” Her volume startled herself, echoing off the garage walls around her. Adrenaline devolved to tears, pouring down her face, gasping breaths from the fear and exertion.

“I’ll get you, you fuck!” She said again, choking on a sob, throwing a useless kick at the door.

Jill. She needed Jill to help her. He was the police chief. Jill had clout. Maybe.

Claire looked back and forth over her shoulders, fingertips leaned against the door, terrified and unbearably alone. _Easy pickin’_ . She was vulnerable, standing in the middle of this dark garage where she could hardly see. It took a moment to will her legs to move, as her instinct forced her to freeze out of fear, but as soon as she was able to unstick herself, she bolted for the cop car which Irons had dragged her out of.

\--

**Thanks so much for reading! comments mean the world : )**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hey everyone! Sorry for the long hiatus! I’ve actually been pouring everything into my original novel, _Morning Stars,_ located on Wattpad. **

**If you like science fiction and my fanfics, it would mean the world to me if you checked it out and leave me a comment/vote over there <3**

**It’s a political space opera with girls who want to smooch each other, friendly alien friends and scary religious cult antics.**

<https://www.wattpad.com/921096164-morning-stars-chapter-1>

**In the meantime, I still have lots planned for my ridiculous RE AU, so if you want more of this and haven’t commented/left a kudos, please do. It lets me know that people are enjoying it and that I should still take time to post it.**

**Cheers.**

**Chapter 18:**

Jill felt more comfortable with Leon watching her back. Despite being a rookie, it was apparent some training stuck. He was tense, on her heels and attentive.

She couldn’t fault him for the tension. Jill’s heart was in her throat, a nagging, sinking feeling about leaving Claire alone. _Yeah, Chris. Just dropped your sister off at a parking garage. During a fucking zombie apocalypse in town. Everything is fine._

That was if he was even alive on his attempted quest to Europe for Umbrella’s secrets. _A whole fucking continent._ Claire’s snark fresh in her head. A gust of cool, damp wind. Jill shivered. “There!” Leon said.

She whipped around. Two shapes in the street, shadowy, thin figures looking at them, “People?” Jill squinted.

“Yeah…I think.” Leon nodded. 

“Keep moving.” Jill decided. She knew about Kendo’s hunting store. Chris was a frequent visitor to his shop for fishing supplies, and Jill usually tagged along with him. It was a part of their usual albeit lame Friday night routine. Shop for lures, make conversation with Kendo, get a nearly stale late evening donut with a ten-cent discount for purchasing it within the last hour before closing. _Maybe you should take a vacation after this. Spice it up. You’re boring as fuck._

Another glance thrown over her shoulder. The people were closer. Women. Two of them. One taller than the other, “Hello?” Jill asked. They stood stone still. The taller one looked behind her, as if unsure if Jill was talking to someone else.

_“They’re watching us.”_ Leon whispered frantically to her.

“Keep walking.” Jill said, more forcefully than she meant to.

Being that Kendo carried weapons and ammunition for the local outdoorsmen, Jill supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised that the front windows were smashed. It was still unnerving, her little slice of normalcy and happiness in Raccoon Village had suddenly turned onto its head.

Kendo’s door was off its hinges, Jill stepped inside, calling his name. Silence. She fumbled with the tiny flashlight she had, its beam hardly cutting through the darkness. Looted, cleared shelves. She swallowed heavily, Leon’s footsteps crunching on shattered glass behind her.

_At least that thing is back at the warden’s station._ “Kendo?” She quieted her voice, getting nervous to startle whatever else might have been in this store.

“Don’t move! Hands!” A sudden shout, an LED beam beating into her eyes. Jill squinted and held up her hands.

“It’s me!” His voice was familiar, “Jill. Jill Valentine!”

She was blinded, eyes adjusted to the darkness, prickling and irritated from the wind on the street.

“I’m a cop! Don’t shoot!” Leon had his hands up as well.

A shuffling in front of her, “Jill. Hon, I’m glad to see you in one piece.” He stepped toward her to give her an affectionate squeeze on the elbow. She pressed her lips together, trying to smile at him without getting emotional, “I wish I had more to offer you two. A few clips worth of nine-millimeter. That’s about it.” 

“We’ll take it. Hey, Kendo. We need to get out of town—”

“Roads are blocked. Whoever those mercenaries are—and yes, they’re mercs. That’s not military—they’ve got enough ammunition to take over a small country.” Jill cringed a little at that comment, “They don’t want nobody out of this place. This is all a big secret. Guess that conspiracy nut was right all this time, huh?”

“Chris or Wricky?” Jill tried to tease, wondering what had happened to the later. She hadn’t seen him since she and Chris returned from the mansion incident. An old, paranoid man who’d constantly chewed their ears about odd things he’d seen in the woods. Right all along, Jill realized. Or maybe it was coincidental.

Kendo gave her a sad smile at that, “Chris skipped town, huh? Smart.”

_And I’m here._ “Smart, I guess.” Jill echoed, feeling hollow and like her words were echoing and loud against the weird silence of the dilapidated street, “Some people are stalking around outside. Keep an eye out.”

“On it.” Leon said, although she hadn’t intended it as an order. He watched out the shattered window, his back pressed into the corner for cover.

“I wish I had more to offer you, Jill.” Kendo said.

“Listen…Chris and I…we’re trying to stop stuff like this.” She was trying not to babble at him, but the situation with Umbrella was nearly impossible to explain to an outsider, “I know it sounds crazy but…the things that happened in Arklay, we knew this was coming…listen when we get out of this city…we’re going to have a lot of work to do.”

“Jill.” He gave her another firm squeeze, turning his flashlight on himself to show bloody bandages wrapped around his shoulder. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw how pale he was. Her knee throbbed from standing still.

Kendo’s soft, dark eyes had turned greyish. He pulled up his sleeve, showing her the swollen lymph nodes under his arm, “I think bites are contagious. Best to get out of here before I…” He cut himself off.

Jill pressed her lips together, only managing a nod, “I…”

“Don’t. Don’t say anything. You get out of this city, you understand me?” It reminded her of the same words which Enrico had desperately whispered to her, shoving her into a cabinet to hide her as he’d been gunned down by someone trying to make sure Umbrella’s secrets stayed buried in Arklay.

She nodded again, trying to steel herself. Her insides felt like they were on fire, the world echoing around her again, “Come.” She was thankful he spoke and not her. His hands quivered hard as he unlocked the drawer in the counter, nearly dropping the handfuls of ammunition he handed her. Jill did her best to jamb the bullets into her pants pockets. 

Gunshots and distant shouts on the street, “Jill!” Leon’s nervous voice. She ducked her head, crouching beside Kendo behind the desk.

“Go.” Kendo said.

“Jill! Someone’s shooting at those women!” Leon cried.

“Leave it! Stay hidden!” She tried to shout back.

The crunching of footsteps as she realized, peaking around the desk, Leon had jumped through the window and was tearing after someone. “Wait! Hands up!” He shouted after them.

_Idiot! Rookie!_

“LEON!” She screamed, her voice echoing around the walls of the store, her volume startling herself.

“Jill!” Kendo gave her arm another firm squeeze, “Go! Get him before he gets shot!”

“What are you going to do?”

Kendo looked down, “Don’t you worry about me, ma’am.”

“I will anyway. But take care of yourself.” She nodded.

“You too.” And Jill found herself pressed against the wall of Kendo’s store. The sound of gunshots had turned to the eerie silence on the street again. The figures of the women were gone. _Leon. Are you kidding me!?_

That was a rookie move—running after a shooter in the dark. She might have done something similar a few years ago. “Leon!?” Jill called. Silence again. The hair across her body stood on end, _instinct. Claire._

She had to get back to Claire. They couldn’t afford to be separated. Another few moments of listening, just to be sure, but it stayed silent, “Leon?!” She kept her voice lower. No response. _Where the hell did they go?_

If Leon ran off, Jill had to have faith he could get back to her. Claire and Sherry, the child, needed her more. He had a better shot on his own than the other two. She marched down the street, feeling vulnerable without him on her heels, eyes sweeping back and forth.

A lone zombie staggered along, Jill’s stomach twisted.

_Where the hell did he go!?_ Back to the parking garage, she realized she’d been holding her breath the entire time once she reached the cover of the building. It was uncomfortably dark on the ramp, but Jill kept moving forward. A figure approached her, she stiffened for a moment before realizing it was familiar, “JILL!” Claire halfway screamed, and with a sinking heart, Jill realized she was crying.

She flung herself at Jill, wrapping her arms around Jill’s neck, “Sherry! A man! He took her!”

“What?! Claire.” Another breath of relief. Taken didn’t mean dead. Claire stuttered out the story to her, about how Irons apparently had dragged off Sherry.

“Oh God…” Claire pushed her hair back, “Where’s Leon?”

“He was chasing some women. They were shooting at each other.” Jill answered, “I lost him.”

Claire squinted, “What?!” She barked at Jill.

“We need a car. We can’t just wander the street. We’re going to drive up and down and try to find him, then we’re going to go to the police station that’s at City Hall and find Irons and Sherry.” Jill decided, “That car still has gas, right?”

Claire nodded desperately, Jill took her hand, “Come on, it’s okay. We’re going to figure this out.”

Their footsteps echoed around the garage, the unnerving, continuous dripping of water from somewhere. Jill chewed a fresh split in her lip—she was thirsty. A terrible roar from down the opposite tunnel of the parking garage. Claire clenched her hand. The massive, hulking frame of a creature as it marched toward them, “Run!”

_“VAAAALLLLEEENNNTTTIINNNEE!”_

“It just said your name!” Claire hollered.

“CAR!” Jill screamed back, they released their hands, bolting. Lumbering footsteps pounded behind them.

Jill yanked the door open so hard she wrenched her elbow, “KEYS?!”

“Oh fuck, oh fuck!” Claire patted her pockets desperately. Jill watched the form grow closer, the ambient generator light from one of the exit signs cast a red glow across leathery, tumor filled skin, “Keys!” She shoved them into Jill’s hand.

She quivered and managed to stuff them into the ignition, twisted too hard, almost flooded it. “Come on!” Jill forced herself to heave a breath, twisting again. The patrol car came to life. She clutched the wheel and punched the gas, tires squealing. The creature lumbered in front of them, lunching itself toward the windshield, “My turn, bitch!” Jill pushed the petal down as hard as she could, the indicator on the dashboard flashed a warning about a flat tire. _Great._

She managed to hit the creature straight on, it gripped and clawed at the dashboard. She punched the gas harder, letting out a scream of frustration as her tires spun against its incredible strength.

“JILL!” Claire screamed her name as it drew back its hand, trying to punch its way through the windshield. It managed to shatter the glass beneath its knuckles. Claire buckled her seatbelt.

Jill cranked the wheel to the side and punched the gas again, her nemesis flung itself to the side and the tires crunched over the curb. Another fishtail, an indicator flashing on the dashboard that the car was burning oil. “Fuck!”

“What?!” Claire demanded. Jill, driving too fast for the flat tire, overcorrected around the turn leaving the garage. The back of the car fishtailed again, this time into the wet drainage ditch. Both she and Claire lurched against the dashboard.

“Fuck! Burning oil.” Jill heaved a breath. She could smell it—the sweet, plasticity scent from the engine components getting too hot. After nearly hitting her face on the steering wheel, she put her seatbelt on out of habit, as if somehow that was going to save her in this situation. She pressed lightly on the gas. The tires spun. Wet grass and mud squeaking against the rubber beneath them.

“Stuck is what we are and tall-boy-as-in-a-forty-ouncer-over-there is about to open a fuckin’ can of whoop-ass!” 

“I’m trying.” Jill spun out on the wet gas, the tires squealed. She yanked the wheel, straining to twist as hard as she could the opposite direction. No avail.

He lumbered closer.

Jill threw the car in reverse and punched it again, “Sometime this fucking week, Jill!” Claire had a death grip on the door handle.

The creature was strides away. He charged.

She slammed in reverse a final time and the tires lurched back onto the road. She hit him again, not as hard as she wanted to. A massive arm span gripped the back of the car, but this time, judging on the howl, she ran him over.

The creature shoved the car off of him, and the force of his shove turned it on its side. Claire was screaming. Jill’s own breath caught in her throat. Body tossed against the seatbelt as the car rolled, she expected it to stop on its side, but it didn’t. Like the gut-wrenching moment before a drop on a roller coaster, they overturned, the roof sliding across the pavement, painfully close to her head.

The world was blurry. The flicker of fire from a burning building. Nylon belt digging into her shoulder. _Fingers and toes._ She could wiggle them. _Hopefully, no spinal injuries._ She coughed, realizing she’d been holding her breath again, desperate to get air back into her lungs. Everything smelled like smoke and burning oil. It made her cough harder. Claire hacked and wheezed beside her. _Car. Get out of the car._ “Jill!” Claire screamed at her, snapping her out of her daze. Looking out the shattered window—thick, dark legs marched toward her.

_“Vallennttinnee.”_

“HEY!” Someone was screaming. The creature paused. Claire was gasping beside her, dangling in the seatbelt.

_Leon? Doesn’t matter. Move. Move._ Jill’s mind screamed at her. She coughed, nothing felt broken. Not yet, at least. Adrenaline was a bitch like that. _Get Claire. Move. Doesn’t fucking matter._

She braced herself against her trembling arm, releasing her seatbelt. Scraping her shoulder and elbow on the way down, Jill knew she’d hit her elbow hard enough to draw blood, but she didn’t have time to worry about it. Her whole body was a fit of trembles. She had to get Claire out of the car.

A deafening blast of heat and light, Jill crossed her arms over her head out of panic as the pain tore through her ears. Her singed arms tingled. Someone was launching grenades. _Alive. Wiggle fingers and toes. Still alive._ She forced herself onto her elbows, dragging her body on her belly around the front of the smoldering car.

“FUCKFACE!” Someone shrieked.

Well, she didn’t loose her hearing despite the ringing. That was good.

Jill managed to get to the other side of the car in time to help Claire, taller and lankier, get herself through the car window, “You hurt?” She demanded the younger Redfield.

“No. Are you?” Claire panted.

Claire was on her feet first, another figure rushing at them, grasping Jill by the arm as he was stronger than Claire. Her nose ran down her face, ears ringing, half-blinded by the light of the grenade, “Who? What?” A big, broad man. He wore a black vest.

“My name’s Carlos!” He proclaimed, “I’m saving you!” He used Jill’s arm to haul her up, then scooped her over his shoulder.

She nearly screamed in surprise, gripping his damp shirt sleeve. He took an awkward step over the curb and tripped, probably half blinded and deafened by the grenade blast himself, and the two of them toppled together, rolling onto the grass.

Jill didn’t care. She appreciated him and his stupid grenade, more than words could formulate, but Claire did a better job: “White fuckin’ knight! Jesus…that…that was awesome!” 

\--

**I’m super partial to these characters being wicked badass, yet wicked in over their heads and staggering through this. I hope you all enjoyed. Also I’m so sad Capcom missed the opportunity of some real hilarious Carlos and Jill rolling on the ground tripping over each other scenes in the game.**

**Remember to check out _Morning Stars_ : <https://www.wattpad.com/story/233216966-morning-stars>**

**And if you want more _Homefront_ updates, leave me some comments and kudos! I’d like to get rolling on this fic again if there’s still readership for it! Or visit me on Tumblr—Jkit45 : ) Thanks guys! **


	19. Chapter 19

**Thanks again, guys** **😊**

**Remember to check out my original novel, _Morning Stars,_ as well: **

**https://www.wattpad.com/921096164-morning-stars-chapter-1**

**Chapter 19:**

Well, this was the absolute last way that Ada wanted to spend her evening, the worst case scenario as to how this all could have worked out. The RPD man groaned against her shoulder. _Another body. A body with a bullet wound that now has his DNA on your coat._ She felt the warmness of blood soaking into the side of her arm. “Shhh.” Bryer, her partner, chided, “We need to get into cover.”

“I thought Annette was on board with this plan, Bryer!” Ada hissed, the man leaned his weight more heavily against her as Bryer released his other arm, trying to yank open a door to a village utilities center. Ada groaned and dug the heels of her boots into the soft grass, trying her best to steady herself beneath his suffering weight.

“Yeah, me too!” Bryer snarled back, managing to break the lock off the door. It swung open. A dank, mold stinking space.

Ada couldn’t hold up the man’s weight any longer, nearly toppling over with him as they limped through the doorway. He cried out in pain as she let him slide down her shoulder until he was on the floor. He tossed his head back against the wall, face twisted, “What’s your name, kid?”

“Leon.” He pressed his hand to the bullet wound in his shoulder.

“Why did you do that, Leon?” Ada swallowed, pulling her flashlight from her belt. The idiot had charged into the street, pushing her down as Annette had nearly shot her. He saved her a worse wound than his own, as much as Ada hated to admit it. She hadn’t expected Annette to be such a good shot. Annette, the woman who boss assured them up and down was supposed to be thankful for them coming to rescue her family from the villiage.

“She…that lady.” Blood seeped through his collared, cotton uniform shirt, drippling between his fingers, “She… was going to…kill you.”

“Well, you’re lucky you aren’t dead yourself.” Bryer knelt beside him. Ada had a small first aid kit for situations like this in her pack. Well stocked, thanks to her connections. She shrugged off her long jacket, sweating in the humidity, and tossed it to the side. She yanked on a pair of pre-packaged, vinyl gloves that came with the set of gauze and wound pads.

“Secure….” Leon hissed in pain as Ada forced his hand away from the room, “Place?”

“No one’s here.” Bryer answered. Ada looked to her, watching her companion lean her head back and inhale through her respirator, “No one.”

Leon, pained enough, took that at face value, “Why? That woman?”

“We’re with the FBI.” Ada answered, quickly, “She’s under investigation for the situation in this city, but either way, we want to make sure that she and her family and the other survivors can get out of here for proper questioning. She’s just scared.”

Leon nodded along. _Good._ He was too shaken up to ask any real questions. A few bandages and a shot of painkiller and Ada hoped he’d be a new man. At least enough to get on his feet again. “Thankfully. It looks like it just went through the fleshy part of your arm. Hurts like a bitch but…” She punctuated her sentence by pressing a wound pad against him, then maneuvering his hand so he held it against himself for her, “but you’ll live.”

“Lucky you.” Bryer drawled.

\--

“Leon.” Claire stated, they jogged behind Carlos. Jill, afraid of being separated from anyone else, kept Claire’s hand tightly in her own. Claire didn’t seem to mind.

“Got separated from him on the street.”

Claire dug her heels in, “What!?”

“Women. Shooting.” Jill thought she’d explained this, “We need to circle back but we have to get away from that thing first.”

She tried to pull Claire forward, but she released her hand, “Sherry too. We have to go back for Leon and Sherry.”

“We will.” Jill assured her, “I promise we will. But we need to regroup.”

“Sherry?” Carlos asked.

“Yeah. A little girl. She got…taken by the police chief. Seems like a real creeper.”

“About twelve?” Carlos asked, “Blonde, white?”

“That’s her.” Claire nodded, “How do you know?”

“Looking for her family. They allegedly know something about what’s going on in the city.” Carlos answered, “They might have developed a vaccine to the virus. We’ll definitely look for her and her family. Let’s get you ladies to safety with the other civilians, first.”

“Civilians? Other survivors?” Jill let out another breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Carlos was taking them between buildings, snaking through the alleyways. She was thankful, though. He was throwing whatever the creature was off their trail, at least for the time being. He knew what he was doing. Jill still didn’t let herself relax.

“You girls will be safe down there at the station.”

“Us ‘girls’, huh?” Jill couldn’t help herself, taking another glance behind them. A few zombies staggering about. It was easy enough to outpace them in small numbers as long as they stayed vigilant.

“We could do our nails and have a tea party while the big strong man handles it.” Claire quipped.

“Easy, easy.” Carlos sounded amused, “Didn’t mean it that way!”

He turned around, smiling, reaching out for Jill’s shoulder, “Not much further.” He went to give her a pat.

She used the back of her hand to push his off, “I’m fine. Thank you.” Jill sidestepped away from him.

“Alright. Independent. I like it.” Carlos stated. Jill swore she could smell the bravado on his voice if that was even possible, “Anyway. My team and I, we’re set up at the old train station—the slow coal engine that used to take people on tours through the preserve.”

“I’m familiar.” Jill answered.

“Yeah. We think maybe if we get it going. Get the generator turned on—it’s mostly electric now, they converted it. But we think we can get it going and use it to ferry injured people out of here.”

Jill liked that plan. It was better than anything she had, “Okay. Sounds reasonable.” They entered a building—a dated call-center by the looks of it. Lines of desks with headsets and monitors. Their generator was working here. Fluorescent lights beat down overhead. It took her eyes a moment to adjust enough to look up properly, and when she did, she paused.

“Jill?” Claire asked.

Jill’s eyes locked on Carlos’ frame. He wasn’t military. Kendo was right about that. The same black vest she’d seen on the men blocking off the roads out of town. Carlos himself looked familiar. She could have sworn she’d seen him in the group when she and Brad tried to escape. “Carlos.”

“Jill, what’s wrong?” Claire had dark circles under her eyes, her hair partially torn from her ponytail.

He turned as well, giving her a boyish, nervous smile, “You okay?” Carlos glanced back and forth as if she was making him nervous.

Jill didn’t care if she was. He was making _her_ nervous. She intended to come up with something _witty_ , ask him _something tactfully_ , but it didn’t come out that way. She wasn’t a silver-tongued Redfield, after all: “Who the fuck do you work for?”

He seemed taken aback by that, and so did Claire. The tone of her voice hadn’t been friendly. Claire wrapped her arms around herself, looking between the two of them as if she expected a brawl.

“Umbrella.”

_“What?”_ Jill took a step back.

“Umbrella?” Claire looked confused, and then it dawned on her in the same moment that Jill took another step backwards, “Wait…wait…as in?”

“Umbrella fucking Corporation?” Jill hissed.

She expected Carlos to turn his rifle on her, but he didn’t, and it threw her off. He was frozen like a deer in headlights, staring at Jill as if she’d gone mad. The blatant fear across his face stopped her from pointing her own pistol at him, “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

“What’s wrong with it!?” Jill shouted, “Are you fucking serious?” She tossed her free hand and dragged it through her oily hair, “They’re the ones that caused this fucking mess! Them and their fucking experiments! You expect me to just follow you—” She tried to calm herself, but she was past that point, “Yeah, how do I know I won’t end up strapped to a goddamn table?!”

Carlos widened his eyes, holding up his hand, “Easy, easy. We’re here to help, lady. I don’t know what you’re talking about! We’re looking to bring some people to justice and rescue survivors!” 

“Oh. Is that all?” Jill glanced to Claire, hoping for backup, but Claire just chewed her lip.

“Jill.” Claire said, eventually breaking a tense few seconds of silence, “We got people missing and he wants to help us get out of town.”

“What’s this about Umbrella?” Carlos looked between the two of them like they were madwomen. He was debatably correct about that, Jill figured. 

Claire had a point. Jill huffed a sigh, weighing her options, and realizing none of them were particularly good. Both she and Claire were lucky to have walked out of a crash that ended in an overturned car: “I don’t trust you.” Jill swallowed, “But I’m going to have to. Thanks for saving us.”

Carlos blinked and nodded, “Okay. With that out of the way. Can I please bring you to the train station?”

“Yes. Please.” Claire answered before Jill could.

She offered her hand out to Jill again, and Jill was glad for it, letting Claire pull her along while she watched behind them. They crossed another street which had several cars set ablaze.

Carlos’ first teammate she met was Tyrell. He was nice enough, Jill didn’t mind him. Distracted by patching the wounds in an older man, Mikhail. Mikhail tossed his head back in pain, grinding his hat into the side of the train which he leaned against. He sat on the boarding pad, back against the steel, “Don’t you want to move somewhere more comfortable?” 

“Rest when I’m dead.” His accent was thick, Russian. That was unusual to hear in a small town like Raccoon. _He’s not from Raccoon. Umbrella’s people. From all over the world._

“Fine enough.” Tyrell sounded American, rousing Mikhail to lift his arms to allow him to wrap bandages around his torso.

“Carlos.” Mikhail boomed, then wheezed, “You brought friends.”

“Yeah. Some ladies I crossed paths with on the street.” He reached past Jill to nudge Claire forward, knowing better not to touch the later again.

“Do…’ladies’, have names?” He chided.

“Uhh.” Carlos turned to them.

Claire threw him a lifeline: “It’s Claire.”

“Good to meet you, Ms. Claire.” He swallowed, then locked eyes with Jill, a grin across his lips, “And you?”

Something about him was…strangely friendly. Maybe it was that he was hurt and didn’t feel like a threat to her. She felt mercy for him, enough to tell him her name, at least, “Jill. It’s Jill.”

“Not the one and only Jillian Valentine. I’ve heard of her.”

Jill swallowed, glancing between Carlos and Claire uncomfortably, “Look at that. Small town celebrity.” Carlos teased lightly.

“One of the game wardens. A survivor of the Arklay incident months ago.”

“You know about that?” Jill’s mouth was dry.

“Don’t be frightened.” He assured. It didn’t take her edge off. Claire reached out for her hand again, “We’re mercenaries. As I tell these young boys…” He paused, letting Tyrell finish tying off the bandages around his torso, “Our job is to know things as much as it is to fight. I know what’s happened in Raccoon Village the past few months.”

“One of the wardens that survived Arklay.” Carlos sounded…strangely happy about that. As if it were a normal thing in these circles, “We could really use your expertise, Ms. Valentine.”

\--

**Thanks for reading! If you could show this fic or my original novel some love I’ll be forever in your debt! : )**


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